THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE 
ENGLISH  NOVEL 


.^^^^ 


THE  EVOLUTION   OF  THE 
ENGLISH  NOVEL 


BY 


FEANCIS  HOVEY    STODDAKD 

f  EOrSSSOB  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE  IN  NEW  TOBK 
UNIVERSITY 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

LONDON:  MACMILLAN  &  CO.,  Ltd, 
1900 

All  rights  reterved 


COPTKIGHT,   1900, 

bt  the  macmillan  company. 


Korbiaot)  i^ress 

J.  S.  Cushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith 
Norwood  Maai.  U.S.A. 


College 
Library 


CONTENTS    <^j/2. 


<r26 

CHAPTER  I 
The  Evolution  of  the  Novel 1 

CHAPTER   II 
The  Growth  of  Personality  in  Fiction         .        .      43 

CHAPTER  III 
The  Historical  Novel 84 

CHAPTER  IV 
The  Romantic  Novel 120 

CHAPTER  V 
The  Novel  of  Purpose 153 

CHAPTER  VI 
/sJ       The  Modern  Noa'el  and  its  Mission         .        .        .     195 


5^ 


INDEX 229 


V 


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THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE 
ENGLISH  NOVEL 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  EVOLUTION   OP  THE  NOVEL 

In  every  discussion  of  tendencies  the  term 
evolution  claims  a  place  with  almost  the  insist- 
ence of  a  prescriptive  right.  No  other  term 
localizes  the  phenomena  so  definitely,  and  con- 
veys so  promptly  the  notion  of  progress  in  a 
general  line  of  tendency.  Nevertheless,  I 
think  most  of  us  would,  if  we  could,  rather 
avoid  the  term  than  insist  upon  it  in  literary 
discussion.  For  the  use  of  the  word  evolution 
seems  to  involve  a  very  elaborate  theory.  In 
the  title  of  this  chapter  —  The  Evolution  of 
the  Novel — the  idea  suggested  indicates  that 
we  can  name  the  earlier  forms  out  of  which 
the  true  novel  has  been  evolved ;  can  arrange 

B  1 


2    EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  novels  in  existence  to  illustrate  the  later 
development ;  and  can  trace  the  steps  of  the 
progress.  It  is  with  some  reluctance  that  I 
have  used  such  a  demanding  title.  Develop- 
ment in  literature,  easy  to  suggest  as  a  prob- 
able law,  easy  to  infer  in  respect  to  particular 
forms,  is  extremely  difficult  of  demonstration 
when  the  great  movements  are  under  consid- 
eration. Literature  as  a  whole  does  not 
exhibit  the  regular  and  sequential  develop- 
ment which  a  theory  of  literary  evolution 
would  imply.  It  is  quite  true  that  in  minor 
matters,  especially  in  tracing  the  growth  of 
literary  ideas,  one  easily  reaches  suggestive 
results.  For  example,  we  may  find  in  the 
"  Divine  Comedy "  of  Dante  the  completed 
form  of  a  literary  method  common  in  the 
Middle  Ages.  In  the  "  Inferno "  we  have 
a  Vision ;  we  can  look  back  and  find  the 
"Vision  of  St.  Paul"  and  other  visions  to 
which  this  one  of  Dante  may  be  said  to  be 
a  legitimate  sequel.  Dante  visits  Hell  under 
guidance,  and  views  it  from  a  bridge.  In  an 
earlier  vision  Ferseus  visits  Hell,  led  by  an 
angel;  and  in  the  "St.  Patrick's  Purgatory" 


THE   EVOLUTION  OE   THE  NOVEL  3 

Tundale  visits  Hell,  has  a  guide,  and  views 
the  lake  and  valley  from  a  bridge.  We  have 
an  example  of  the  development  of  a  method. 
So  if  we  consider  Milton's  "Paradise  Lost," 
we  can  go  back  and  find  legendary  additions 
to  the  Scripture,  then  Avitus,  then  Caedmon, 
then  Andreini,  then  Milton.  Undoubtedly  we 
have  in  Milton  a  developed  presentation  of 
some  of  the  external  scenic  accessories  found 
in  these  earlier  works ;  and  perhaps  we  have 
a  development  of  the  main  thought  sufficiently 
connected  to  make  an  historical  study  of  these 
preceding  works,  with  a  provisional  theory  of 
evolution  in  mind,  valuable  for  the  study  of 
Milton's  "Paradise  Lost."  So  with  Bunyan. 
We  read  the  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  as  a  com- 
pleted form";  we  go  back  and  find  the  alle- 
gorical journeys  of  Raoul  de  Houdan  in  the 
thirteenth  century ;  we  find  the  Pelerinage 
de  Vdme  of  Guillaume  de  Deguilleville  in  the 
fourteenth  century  ;  we  find  the  English  trans- 
lation—  "The  Pylgremage  of  the  Sowle" — in 
the  next  century ;  and  illustrations  of  the 
development  seem  to  be  quite  at  hand.  Yet 
the  very  enumeration  of  these  suggestive  cases 


4    EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

brings  to  our  minds  rather  the  difficulty  than 
the  satisfactoriness  of  a  theory  of  evolution  in 
literature.  For  certainly  there  is  something 
vastly  greater,  more  complete,  in  the  "Pil- 
grim's Progress"  than  in  the  earlier  "  Pilgrim- 
age of  the  Soul";  there  is  something  greater 
in  Milton's  "  Paradise  Lost "  than  in  Avitus, 
in  Csedmon,  in  Andreini  combined;  and  there 
is  something  greater,  perhaps  we  may  say 
something  entirely  new,  inexplicably  more 
important,  in  Dante's  "  Inferno "  than  in  the 
"  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory,"  or  the  "  Vision  of 
Ferseus,"  or  the  "Vision  of  St.  Paul."  The 
theory  of  an  evolution,  even  with  such  excel- 
lent examples  as  these  to  illustrate  it,  seems 
less  than  satisfactory. 

With  much  more  emphasis  we  can  say  that 
any  theory  of  evolution  suggests  difficulties 
if  we  apply  it  to  larger  matters  than  single 
works.  In  poetry  one  would  perhaps  expect 
that  the  early  poems  recorded  in  history 
would  be  weak,  formless,  vague,  a  chaos  of 
ideas  in  a  mist  of  expression,  without  form  and 
void.  Yet  we  go  back  to  the  earliest  Hebraic 
work  in  poetry,  and  it  is  the  Book  of  Job,  as 


THE  EVOLUTION   OF  THE  NOVEL  5 

complete  and  universal  in  its  application,  as 
correct  in  its  form,  as  if  it  had  been  written  in 
this  nineteenth  century;  we  go  back  to  very 
early  Greek  literature,  and  we  have  the  poems 
of  Homer.  We  should  have  some  difficulty  in 
establishing  a  theory  of  the  development  of 
poetry,  if  we  undertook  to  trace  it  in  an  ascend- 
ing series  from  the  works  of  the  great  poets  of 
Greece  up  to  the  works  of  the  crowned,  or  even 
of  the  uncrowned,  poet  laureates  of  to-day. 
Even  if  we  take  a  specific  form  of  poetry, 
such  as  an  epic,  can  we  establish  a  proposition 
of  the  evolution  of  the  epic  from  a  vague,  form- 
less, chaotic  Iliad,  an  Odyssey,  or  an  ^neid,  up 
to  a  complete  nineteenth  century  epic  ?  If  we 
extend  our  theory  and  say  that  the  epic  has 
developed  out  of  its  completed  form  into  a  new 
and  larger  form  of  poetic  expression,  what  is 
that  expression  ?  Can  we  say  that  the  epic  was 
a  stage  in  poetic  evolution  preparatory  for  and 
leading  to  a  greater  method  ? 

We  may  have  a  theory  of  an  evolution  of 
the  drama.  Possibly  such  a  theory  of  develop- 
ment would  suggest  that  the  drama  should 
begin  with   simple   domestic   portrayals,   such 


b    EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

as  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  "The  Rivals," 
or  "Rip  Van  Winkle";  should  go  on  to  more 
complex  and  more  intense  presentations;  and 
finally  should,  in  Titanic  manner,  present  the 
great  problems  of  life  and  death  in  the  drama 
of  this  evolved  and  later  age.  But  in  fact 
-3i^schylus  stands  first,  grander  than  our  theory, 
nobler  than  our  conception.  Suppose,  still  fur- 
ther, that  we  accept  -^schylus  as  a  beginning 
of  a  drama  and  look  thence  down  the  ages  for 
an  evolution  of  the  drama.  What  do  we  find  ? 
Five  hundred  years  later  than  iEschylus  we 
have  a  weak  imitation  of  the  Titanic  drama  of 
Greece;  a  thousand  years  later  than  these  we 
have  the  Miracle  Plays  of  England  and  France, 
the  very  crude,  formless,  simple  dramatic  work 
that  we  should  have  expected  to  have  stood 
fifteen  hundred  years  before;  and  a  few  hun- 
dreds of  years  later  than  these  we  have  Shake- 
speare, with  no  dramatic  past  in  England,  no 
dramatic  evolution,  no  literary  history, — sim- 
ply Shakespeare,  outside,  apparently,  of  any 
completed  scheme  of  literary  development. 

Still  again,  consider  the  poet,  the  seer,  the  far- 
eyed  man.     If  literary  evolution  be  easy  to  set 


THE  EVOLUTION   OF   THE  NOVEL  7 

forth,  where  shall  we  find  this  revealing  poet  ? 
At  the  end  ?  In  the  later  years,  shall  we  not  ? 
But  in  fact  he  comes  before  the  day  of  literary 
history.  He  is  Isaiah,  Ezekiel,  Daniel.  I  do 
not  present  these  things  as  in  any  sense  an 
argument  against  the  possibility  of  a  setting 
forth  of  any  theory  of  development,  of  evolution; 
least  of  all  do  I  say  these  things  as  a  denial 
that  such  a  theory  of  evolution  is  probable,  or 
that  the  discovery  of  its  law  is  beyond  our  power. 
I  say  them  to  encourage  a  certain  modesty  in 
the  consideration  of  this  question,  and  to  sug- 
gest to  myself  a  certain  lack  of  dogmatic  utter- 
ance in  the  promulgation  of  any  theory  of 
evolution  of  the  novel,  and  the  exploitation  of 
the  steps  of  its  development.  The  things  of 
the  mind  are  not  easy  to  set  down  in  scien- 
tific and  logical  order.  We  at  best  but  search 
for  the  underlying  law  and  get  such  hints  as 
we  can  toward  its  statement. 

In  these  chapters  I  do  not  undertake  to 
show  that  the  novel  has  grown  out  of  any  pre- 
ceding form  of  literature  with  such  preciseness 
that  the  traces  of  its  growth  can  be  shown.  It 
is  extremely  doubtful  if  we  can  yet  work  out 


8    EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

a  perfect  statement  of  the  development  of  the 
novel  out  of  any  other  form  of  literature  ;  it  is 
doubtful  if  we  can  work  out  any  chronological 
sequence  even  within  the  period  —  the  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  —  of  the   novel's  life  in 
English  literature  to  the  present  day.    We  can- 
not say  that  the  novels  of  1740  legitimately 
developed  into  the  novels  of  1780  ;    that  the 
novels   of   1780   logically   developed   into   the 
novels  of  1820  ;  that  the  novels  of  1820  legiti- 
mately and  regularly  developed  into  the  novels 
of    1850.      As    with   poetry,   with    literature, 
with  the  drama,  with  the  epic,  we  find  our- 
selves  confronted   with  the   operation   of  the 
human  mind  expressing  itself  in  forms  ante- 
dating, or  postdating  the   theoretical   stages ; 
expressing  itself  often   in  forms   greater,  ex- 
pressing itself  sometimes  in  forms  much  less, 
in  importance  than  any  theory  would  demand. 
TNevertheless,  we  have  to  do  in  the  English 
novel  with   a  kind   of   literature   separate   in 
method  and    in  extent   from  other  sorts.      It 
belongs  to  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  cen- 
turies.    It  has  a  character  of   its  own ;    it  is 
limited  in  extent ;  it  is  specific  in  its  selection 


THE  EVOLUTION   OF  THE  NOVEL  9 

of  subject  and  in  its  method  of  treatment.  In 
such  a  limited  field  the  study  of  a  development, 
if  possible  anywhere,  may  be  carried  on  with 
reasonable  prospects  of  success.  Granting  the 
difficulty,  it  is  yet  more  than  probable  that 
we  can  find,  if  we  take  up  this  limited 
division  of  literary  expression,  and  if  we  study 
it  with  something  of  regularity  and  sys- 
tem, that  certain  indications  of  what  may  be 
properly,  though  not  too  technically,  called  a 
development  may  be  shown  ;  and  that  the 
examination  of  these  indications,  of  these 
apparent  stages  of  growth,  may  be  useful.  In 
this  work  I  undertake  the  study  of  five  spe- 
cific kinds  of  expression  in  fiction :  the  novel 
of  personality,  the  novel  of  history,  the  novel 
of  romance,  the  novel  of  purpose,  and  the 
novel  of  problem.  I  take  these  five  divi- 
sions in  the  order  in  which  I  have  named 
them,  for  the  reason  that  it  is  somewhat  the 
order  in  which  these  specific  kinds  of  expres- 
sion in  novel  form  appeared.  The  novel  of 
personal  life,  of  individual,  separate,  domestic 
life,  is  the  basal  form.  A  novel  is  a  record  of 
emotion  ;    the  story  of  a  human   life   touched 


10   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

with  emotion;  the  story  of  two  human  lives 
under  stress  of  emotional  arousement ;  the 
story  of  domestic  life  with  emotion  pervading 
it ;  the  story  of  a  great  historical  character 
in  his  day  of  aroused  emotional  activity ;  or 
the  story  of  the  romantic  adventures  of  some 
person  in  whom  we  are  forced  by  the  author 
to  take  an  interest.  So  that  the  novel  of 
personal  life  is  really  the  basal  form  of  the 
novel,  and  one  may  say  that  all  novels  be- 
come novels  only  when  each  is  the  story 
of  some  life  stirred  by  some  emotion.  The 
earliest  and  the  latest  novel  will  come  under 
this  main  division,  to  the  discussion  of  whose 
characteristics  the  second  chapter  is  given. 
The  historical  and  the  romantic  novel,  which 
are  the  subjects  of  the  third  and  fourth  chap- 
ters, developed  later  as  a  special  form ;  and 
the  novel  of  purpose  later  than  either.  In 
treating  these  in  successive  chapters  I  am, 
then,  following  somewhat  a  law  of  chrono- 
logical appearance ;  but  I  by  no  means  suggest 
that  the  novel  of  the  domestic  life,  of  the 
individual  life,  developed  into  the  historical 
novel,  and  that  again  into  the  romantic  novel. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     11 

and  that  again  into  the  novel  of  purpose,  and 
that  again  into  the  problem  novel.  One  must 
look  farther  than  to  this  rough  and  general 
classification  if  he  seeks  to  frame  a  law  of 
the  development  of  fiction. 

We  have  seen  that  it  is  not  easy  to  set 
forth  in  detail  any  order  of  succession  of  lit- 
erary forms  of  expression.  Yet  I  think  he  is 
but  a  superficial  student  of  the  literature  of 
recorded  time  who  does  not  note  one  ten- 
dency of  later  work,  of  later  method,  of  later 
procedure,  of  later  life,  as  compared  with 
earlier  work,  earlier  method,  earlier  proced- 
ure, and  earlier  life  which  seems  to  imply 
an  underlying  law.  If  there  be  such  an 
underlying  law,  it  is  the  purpose  of  this 
chapter  to  suggest  it  and  to  apply  it  with 
some  exactness  to  the  history  of  the  novel 
form.  This  law  of  tendency  is,  in  general, 
that  the  depiction  of  the  external,  objective, 
carnal,  precedes,  in  every  form  of  expression 
of  which  we  can  have  records,  the  considera- 
tion of  the  internal,  the  subjective,  the  spirit- 
ual. "We  go  from  shapes,  and  forms,  and 
bulk,   and    externals,  to    the   presentation  of 


12   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  life  within.  To  illustrate  this  law,  I 
may  call  attention  to  a  step  in  the  develop- 
ment of  art  significant  of  the  evolution  of  the 
idea  of  inner  personality  as  opposed  to  out- 
ward symbol,  which  seemed  to  show  itself  in 
the  last  years  of  the  Mediaeval  Ages,  and  the 
first  years  of  the  Reformation  era.  In  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries,  in  the  day 
of  Cimabue,  of  Quintin  Massys,  of  Van  Eyck, 
the  typical  presentation  of  the  Madonna  was 
that  of  a  vague  face,  without  expression,  shone 
upon  by  a  light  from  without,  illumined  and 
dignified  by  an  external  halo.  The  Madonna 
of  the  later  time,  of  the  greater  time,  was  a 
human  face,  with  human  expression,  illumined 
and  glorified  by  a  light  from  within.  The 
halo,  the  external  sign,  had  gone  ;  the  inner 
life,  the  expression  of  the  divinely  aroused 
human  emotion,  had  come  in  its  place.  This 
seems  to  be  in  accordance  with  a  law  that 
the  progress  of  evolution  is  from  external  em- 
bellishment to  inner  life.  It  is  this  law  that 
I  propose  in  this  work  to  apply  to  the  novel. 
The  theory  of  development  that  I  set  forth 
is  that  progress,  in   speech,   in  literature,  in 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     13 

methods  religious,  educational,  and  political, 
in  theories  of  the  relation  of  the  individual 
to  his  life  work  and  life  duty,  has  always 
been  from  the  expression  of  the  external  form, 
from  the  consideration  of  the  external  charac- 
teristics, from  the  suggestion  of  the  external 
remedies  for  evils  and  rewards  for  endeavor, 
to  the  expression  of  the  abstract  thought 
beneath  the  external  form,  to  the  considera- 
tion of  the  internal  character  which  finds 
embodiment  in  the  external  characteristics, 
to  study  into  the  causes  of  evils,  and  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  soul  with  duty  done  in 
place  of  external  reward  of  endeavor.  It 
is  a  progress  that  advances  from  the  physi- 
cal to  the  intellectual,  from  the  carnal  to 
the  spiritual.  I  shall  endeavor  to  apply  this 
theory  to  the  novel  with  intent  to  suggest 
that  such  development  of  expression  as  we 
find  in  form  of  novels  advances  from  the 
depiction  of  far-off  occurrences  and  adven- 
tures to  the  narration  and  representation  of 
contemporaneous,  immediate,  domestic  occur- 
rences ;  and,  finally,  to  the  presentation  of 
conflicts   of   the   mind   and   soul   beneath   the 


14       EVOLUTION   OF   THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

external  manifestations.  If  the  theory  is  true, 
we  may  expect  to  find  at  the  beginning  of 
novel-expression  a  wild  romance,  and  at  its 
end  an  introspective  study  into  motive. 

First,  then,  for  the  theory.  The  earliest 
speech  of  any  people,  the  earliest  speech  of 
the  Indian,  of  the  savage,  is  a  picture  story. 
It  is  hardly  probable  that  the  Indian  speeches 
familiar  to  our  boyhood's  days  from  the 
records  of  the  "  Boy's  Own  Speaker,"  are 
exact  transcripts  of  the  utterances  of  the 
chiefs  around  the  war-party  camp-fire  two 
hundred  years  ago ;  but  they  are  veracious 
in  one  respect,  —  the  voice  of  the  utterance 
is  external.  An  Indian's  speech  is  a  series 
of  pictures,  of  illustrations,  of  external  rep- 
resentations of  his  ideas.  He  sees  a  happy 
hunting-ground,  a  great  spirit.  He  lays  the 
implements  of  the  dead  warrior  by  him  in 
the  grave ;  he  makes  visible  images  which 
he  can  touch,  feel,  handle,  for  the  embodiment 
of  his  ideas.  So  the  early  primitive  nation 
worships  a  visible  God,  —  a  sun,  a  totem, 
a  joss,  an  idol.  So  primitive  peoples  per- 
sonify phases  of   nature   into  nymphs,  spirits, 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     15 

and  fairies.  It  is  the  later  day  which 
gives  the  power  to  see,  to  speak,  to  think 
directly  without  the  visible  image,  without 
the  symbol,  without  the  external  form.  It 
is  an  indication  of  progress  in  intellectual 
as  well  as  mathematical  excellence,  when  the 
boy  ceases  visibly  to  touch  his  actual  fingers 
as  he  counts.  And  as  in  spoken  speech,  so 
also  in  recorded  speech.  It  is  no  accident 
that  the  epic  stands  at  the  beginning  of  poetic 
life  and  that  in  modern  days  the  epic  has 
passed  away  ;  for  the  epic  is  the  most  objec- 
tive, the  most  external,  the  most  physical  of 
all  forms  of  poetic  expression.  With  the 
complexity  of  modern  life,  if  this  theory  of 
progress  from  the  outward  to  the  inward, 
from  the  external  to  the  internal,  from  the 
objective  to  the  subjective,  is  true,  we  might 
expect  the  passing  of  the  epic,  as  it  has  passed. 
Or,  again,  if  we  interrogate  folklore,  one  may 
note  one  characteristic  of  the  tales  of  folklore 
which  are  dearest  to  the  hearts  of  all  peoples, 
and  this  characteristic  is  that  the  stories  most 
loved  are  stories  [of  the  physically  largest  and 
most    perfect,    overthrown    and    defeated    by 


16   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  weaker,  by  the  less  physically  great,  by 
the  more  intellectually  potent.  The  folklore 
story  is  always  of  the  one  physically  strong 
overthrown  by  the  one  weak  in  body  but 
strong  in  intellect  and  spirit.  It  is  always 
the  giant  killed  by  the  insignificant  Jack  ;  it 
is  always  the  fire-breathing  dragon  killed  by 
the  saintly  knight ;  it  is  always  Grendel  de- 
stroyed by  Beowulf  ;  it  is  always  Brer  Fox 
outwitted  by  Brer  Rabbit.  The  external, 
the  forceful,  the  physically  massive,  is  over- 
come, defeated,  by  the  physically  weak,  but 
the  more  intellectual,  the  more  spiritual.  If 
this  be  a  law,  we  may  look  to  find,  as  we 
study  the  novel,  that  it  begins  with  the  pre- 
sentation of  the  external  phases  of  life  ;  finds 
the  impulse  of  its  action  in  compulsions  from 
without,  in  accidents,  incidents,  catastrophes ; 
takes  its  motive  from  the  external.  And  we 
may  find,  if  the  theory  is  a  true  one,  that  the 
study  of  the  romantic  novel,  or  the  historical 
novel,  or  the  novel  of  domestic  life,  becomes  a 
study  of  progress  toward  the  depiction  of  the 
relation  of  man  to  man,  taking  the  impulse  of 
its  action  and  its   motive   from  the    aroused 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     17 

desire  in  the  mind  or  heart  of  its  hero.  Fic- 
tion begins  with  the  objective  novel;  it  pro- 
gresses into  the  introspective  and  the  subjective 
novel. 

All  this  will  follow  if  the  theory  is  true. 
But  it  is  worth  while,  in  enunciating  so  far- 
reaching  and  apparently  so  arbitrary  a  propo- 
sition, to  illustrate  it  still  farther.  I  may,  no 
doubt,  find  suggestion  of  it  in  very  trifling 
matters  close  at  hand  even  better  than  in  more 
serious  ones.  It  was  but  a  few  years  ago  that 
the  engines  on  our  railroads  glittered  in  brass 
adornments;  the  bell,  the  water  tank,  the 
signal  light,  and  the  rails,  shone  like  gold. 
There  was  a  great  outcry  when  the  late  Com- 
modore Vanderbilt  ordered  all  these  engines  to 
appear  in  plain  black  paint.  It  was  argued 
that  the  love  of  the  engineer  for  his  engine,  the 
pride  in  it,  would  pass  with  the  passing  of  the 
glittering  external.  It  did  not.  The  excel- 
lence was  inside,  and  the  removal  of  the  halo 
did  not  diminish  the  admiration  of  the  driver 
for  his  engine.  Or  I  may  name  the  passing  of 
certain  details  of  the  external  on  the  stage. 
In  one  of  the  Miracle  Plays,  Adam  is   repre- 

0 


18   EVOLUTION  or  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

sented  crossing  the  stage,  going  to  be  created. 
The  imagination  needed  its  visible  symbol. 
Similarly  there  are  ghosts  in  the  Elizabethan 
plays.  In  Shakespeare's  time  there  was  a  vis- 
ible physical  ghost,  possibly  with  the  "invis- 
ible" coat  of  the  Middle  Ages,  —  a  remarkable 
garment  through  the  donning  of  which  an  actor 
could  become,  as  it  were,  conspicuously  invisible, 
—  more  likely  a  visible  ghost,  boldly  expressed, 
with  no  disguise.  But  since  Shakespeare's  day 
we  have  progressed  beyond  the  need  of  this 
physical  symbol  of  the  vanished  spirit  hovering 
for  an  instant  on  the  confines  betwixt  life  and 
death,  and  to  us  the  externally  manifested  ghost 
has  come  to  seem  too  close  a  personation.  The 
later  stage  managers  have  tried  various  devices 
to  spiritualize,  to  decarnalize,  this  ghost  pres- 
entation ;  they  have  tried  mirror  reflections, 
illusions.  But  it  was  Henry  Irving  in  the 
presentation  of  Macbeth  who  gave  the  modern 
thought.  The  ghost  of  Banquo  is  present 
in  Shakespeare's  play  ;  but  on  the  stage,  as 
Henry  Irving  presents  Macbeth,  there  is  no 
ghost  of  Banquo  ;  there  is  merely  the  empty 
chair  and  a  light  on  the  empty  chair  of  Banquo. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     19 

So  we  have  come  from  the  exhibition  of  an 
external  form  to  the  suggestion  of  the  subtler 
thought  beneath.  For  though  no  modern 
dramatist  would  ever  introduce  a  ghost  in 
writing  a  drama,  and  no  modern  novelist  would 
ever  make  a  ghost  a  real  character  in  a  serious 
novel,  yet  we  think  of  these  unthinkable 
things,  we  ponder  on  these  spiritual  problems 
in  our  plays  and  in  our  novels  no  less  intently 
than  did  our  anthropomorphic  ancestors.  We 
think  and  ponder  only  the  more  intently 
because  unhampered  by  the  external  symbol. 
The  visible  ghost  no  longer  walks  the  boards 
of  our  stage,  nor  stalks  through  the  reveries  of 
our  imaginations  ;  but  the  mystery  of  death,  of 
life,  of  life  extending  beyond  the  visible  death, 
is  none  the  less  a  problem  in  our  plays,  in  our 
novels,  and  in  our  meditations.  It  is  but  the 
external  manifestation  which  has  passed. 

It  has  passed,  too,  in  things  very  much  greater 
than  the  speech  of  Indian,  or  the  method  of 
poetic  expression,  or  the  decoration  of  engines, 
or  the  portrayal  of  Madonnas,  or  the  exhibi- 
tion of  incorporeal  visions  on  the  stage.  The 
thought  of  sin  cannot  be  said  to  be  a  modern 


20   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

thought ;  but  it  is  only  since  the  Reformation 
that  repentance  for  sin  has  come  to  be  a  matter 
of  spiritual  exercise.  We  need  go  back  only  one 
thousand  years  to  find  that  the  religious  exercise 
of  repentance  for  sin  committed  demanded  ex- 
ternal observance  as  its  essential.  It  was  not 
alone  the  king  who  did  penance  for  his  people's 
sin  in  public,  or  led  a  Crusade  as  a  religious  rite  ; 
it  was  a  universal  proposition  of  religious  pro- 
cedure that  penitence  was  a  public  function 
which  involved  penitential  observances,  exter- 
nal fastings,  mortifications  of  the  external  flesh, 
removal  from  the  shows  of  external  social  life, 
departure  from  the  occupations  of  the  external 
world,  pilgrimages  to  shrines,  to  Meccas,  to 
that  Canterbury  Cathedral  in  which  lay  the 
bones  of  the  martyred  Thomas  aBecket.  Pen- 
itence was  to  be  expressed  by  some  external 
observance,  visible  to  the  eye,  painful  to  the 
flesh.  It  is  a  modern  thought  that  penitence 
is  a  private  duty ;  it  is  a  modern  thought  that 
it  demands  contrition  instead  of  external  ob- 
servance as  its  essential ;  that  it  concerns  the 
sinner  and  is,  perhaps,  most  sincere  when  least 
visibly  manifested.     The  progress  is  from  the 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     21 

requirement  of  objective  external  forms  of 
atonement,  of  repentance,  to  the  exercises  of 
the  individual  soul.  So  far  as  this  indicates  a 
law,  it  would  indicate  that  in  the  earlier 
method  of  the  romantic  novel,  of  the  historical 
novel,  of  the  novel  of  life,  we  should  have  the 
external  phases  of  the  historical  day,  of  the 
romantic  adventure,  of  the  life  procedure  ;  and 
that  in  later  stages  we  should  have  the  rela- 
tions of  man  to  the  historical  day,  we  should 
have  the  subtler,  the  less  physical,  aspects  of 
the  romantic  life,  of  the  domestic  life,  por- 
trayed. 

But  not  alone  is  such  a  tendency  as  I  have 
indicated  evidenced  in  religious  observances. 
It  is  even  more  easily  recognized  in  educational 
and  in  political  methods.  Students  of  the  edu- 
cational tendencies  of  the  last  one  hundred 
years  have  no  doubt  noted  that  the  motive 
force  upon  the  student  has  shifted  in  the  last 
seventy  years  from  an  external  to  an  internal 
compulsion.  The  college  of  seventy  years  ago 
was  an  absolute  monarchy ;  the  student  was 
intellectually  handled,  mastered,  disciplined, 
prepared,  by  an  educational  force,  in  the  selec- 


22   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

tion  of  which,  toward  the  influencing  of  which, 
in  the  modelling  of  which,  he  had  absolutely 
no  choice.  A  faculty  set  for  him  certain 
required  studies,  to  be  pursued  at  certain 
stated  times,  to  be  evidenced  by  recitations, 
to  be  guaranteed  by  examinations  at  certain 
fixed  periods  under  unchangeable  rules  and 
regulations.  There  was  no  election,  no  option, 
no  opportunity  of  individual  choice  given  the 
student.  It  was  a  compulsion  from  an  ex- 
ternal. Such  was  the  system  in  our  colleges  — 
even  in  Harvard  College  —  seventy  years  ago. 
Under  such  a  system  as  this  most  excellent 
men  were  trained,  and  trained  most  excel- 
lently. There  may  be  some  who  will  main- 
tain that  we  have  not  wholly  gone  toward 
perfection  in  education,  as  we  have  in  modern 
times  given,  more  and  more,  the  voice  of  the 
determination  of  his  college  career  to  the  stu- 
dent. I  do  not  argue  this  point;  I  merely 
point  out  that  the  college  of  to-day  has  gone 
from  a  method  of  education  by  which  the  stu- 
dent was  dominated  from  beginning  to  close 
by  a  force  external  to  himself,  to  a  system  in 
which  the  student's  own  desire,  the  student's 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     23 

own  choice,  the  student's  own  private  notion, 
is  in  his  case  the  keynote  of  procedure.  And 
I  am  sure  that  this  change  from  the  external 
power  modelling  the  boy,  to  the  boy's  own 
desire  controlling  his  development,  is  a  change 
in  accordance  with  the  theory  I  have  been 
presenting  —  that  evolution  proceeds  from  the 
dominance  of  the  external  toward  the  preem- 
inence and  the  potency  of  the  immanent  idea. 
And  in  like  manner,  our  days  have  seen 
a  similar  progress  of  the  notion  of  political 
headship  from  the  external,  objective  symbol 
to  the  dominance  of  the  invisible  idea.  The 
earliest  kings  were  kings  by  virtue  of  force. 
The  largest  man,  the  man  with  the  strongest 
arm,  with  the  muscle  of  iron,  with  the  nerves 
of  steel  —  was  the  first  king.  He  was  an  ob- 
jective manifestation  of  physical  power.  That 
is  the  first  stage  in  the  king-notion.  The 
second  stage  is  of  to-day,  in  England  let  us 
say,  where  the  king  or  queen  is  but  the  sym- 
bol of  a  power  —  without  force,  almost  without 
influence  —  the  inactive  physical  symbol  of 
the  power  of  the  state.  In  more  modern 
community  systems  men  will  not  admit  that 


24   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

they  have  a  king  at  all.  If  a  Democratic 
leader  or  a  Republican  leader  rules  the  poli- 
tics of  a  State,  he  rules  it,  not  by  displaying, 
but  by  concealing,  the  fact  that  he  is  a  king 
—  a  political  king — a  "boss."  In  our  gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States  can  it  least  of 
all  be  said  that  he  who  stands  as  President 
stands  as  king.  The  real  ruler  of  these 
seventy  millions  of  people  is  an  intangible, 
immaterial,  invisible  force  called  "public 
opinion."  Before  the  breath  of  that  unem- 
bodied  idea  the  physical  force  of  a  political 
boss,  of  a  Congress,  of  a  President,  bows. 
The  external  yields  to  the  internal,  the  physi- 
cal to  the  mental  and  the  spiritual. 

If  such  examples  as  I  have  given  are  not 
sufficient,  I  can  easily  add  to  their  num- 
ber. I  can,  for  example,  suggest  how  the 
notion  of  individual  personal  liberty,  in  reli- 
gious matters,  in  political  matters  —  of  liberty 
untrammelled  by  any  external  force,  of  liberty 
dominated  only  by  the  mind,  the  heart,  the 
conscience  —  is  a  modern,  an  evolved,  a  de- 
veloped idea.  Or  I  can  point  out  that  a 
hint  of  all  the  suggestions  that  I  have  been 


THE  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  NOVEL     25 

making  has  been  given  in  revelation,  in  the 
fire,  the  thunder,  the  lightnings,  the  tablets  of 
stone  when  the  first  Commandments  came ;  in 
the  voice  saying  that  f'  a  little  child  shall  lead 
them,"  that  "except  ye  become  as  little  chil- 
dren," and  that  "ye  must  be  born  again," 
uttered  when  came  the  New  Commandments. 
The  fire,  the  thunder,  the  lightnings  passed, 
but  God  was  in  the  still,  small  voice.  And 
I  may  finally  claim  that  a  further  suggestion 
can  be  found  in  the  prophecy  that  in  the 
world  to  come  the  body  shall  cease,  and  the 
spirit  be  alone  the  living  force.  I  do  not 
give  these  examples  as  proofs.  I  desire  only 
to  use  such  illustrations  as  are  near  at  hand 
in  making  clear  this  suggestion  of  a  general 
habit  of  progress  in  evolution.  If  true  as 
respects  the  novel,  we  may  expect  to  find  a 
tendency  away  from  external  manifestations 
and  toward  the  presentation  of  the  motive 
beneath  such  manifestations,  —  away  from  the 
manifestation  of  the  objective,  the  physical, 
from  the  picturing  of  a  thoughtless  hero 
dashing  about  through  forests  and  over 
streams  to  rescue  or  to  kill  other  individuals 


26   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

as  unspiritual,  as  unintellectual  as  himself,  — 
toward  the  study  and  the  depiction  of  the 
internal  relations  of  men  and  women  in  daily 
life.  It  is  with  illustrations  such  as  these 
that  I  formulate  a  proposition  concerning  the 
novel  in  its  growth  to  completeness  :  that, 
earlier  than  its  appearance  in  the  works  of 
Richardson,  Fielding,  Smollett,  and  Sterne,  in 
the  decade  of  1740  to  1750,  we  may  find  ro- 
mances and  chivalric  tales  of  men  on  horse- 
back ranging  through  strange  countries  ;  we 
may  find  romances  of  adventures,  stories  of 
wanderings  and  seekings  through  far  lands  ; 
and  that  at  a  much  later  date,  as  typical 
of  the  most  advanced  thought  of  a  later  day, 
we  may  find  novels  of  the  soul,  of  the  mind, 
introspective  studies  into  the  motives  which 
move  hearts  and  influence  lives. 

Let  us  then  turn  from  theory  to  history 
and  study  the  fact.  When  we  interrogate  the 
history  of  the  true  novel  we  find  it  a  most 
recent  literary  form.  A  novel  is  a  narrative 
of  human  life  under  stress  of  emotion.  It 
differs  from  the  epic  in  that  it  is  a  narration 
of  human  rather  than  superhuman  life,  under 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     27 

stress  of  ordinary  rather  than  of  excessive  or 
heroic  emotion.  It  differs  from  the  drama  in 
that  the  latter  represents  clashes  and  conflicts 
of  emotion  rather  than  a  life  procedure  under 
influence  of  emotion,  and  represents  in  action 
rather  than  in  narrative.  In  English  speech, 
though  not  in  German  and  French  usage,  the 
term  novel  is  used  as  a  general  expression  to 
include  all  prose  fiction ;  the  romance  and  the 
story  being  thus  names  of  types  and  classes  of 
novels ;  the  term  novel  being  the  generic,  the 
term  romance  and  story  being  the  especial, 
designation.  In  German  usage  a  sharp  dis- 
tinction is  drawn  between  the  term  Novelle 
and  Moman,  the  latter  being,  as  in  the  Frencli, 
the  general  term  corresponding  to  novel  in 
English.  In  English  usage  the  "story"  is 
that  form  of  novel  which  gives  an  action 
of  life  or  a  sequence  of  events  of  life  with 
least  possible  complexity  of  emotion ;  and 
the  "  romance "  is  that  form  of  novel  which 
portrays  a  life  when  influenced  by  emotion  to 
undertake  material,  spiritual,  or  physical  ex- 
ploration into  regions  unfamiliar.  In  English 
fiction  the  type  form  is  the  novel,  and  the  novel 


28   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

in  English  literature  was  born  in  1740  when 
appeared  the  "  Pamela  "  of  Richardson.  It  had 
predecessors  rather  than  ancestors  in  English 
writings.  Before  it,  had  appeared  Defoe's 
"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  which  was  a  story  of  ad- 
venture arousing  emotional  interest,  though 
itself  but  slightly  touched  with  emotion.  And 
earlier  had  appeared  four  works  commonly 
cited  by  chroniclers  as  having  in  them  enough 
of  the  quality  of  the  English  novel  to  warrant 
their  position  in  a  list  of  its  predecessors. 
These  four  works  were :  Nash's  fantastic 
narration  of  adventure  called  "The  Unfortu- 
nate Traveller,"  which  was  printed  in  1594; 
Lyly's  "Euphues,"  which  was  really  a  hand- 
book of  court  etiquette  rather  than  a  novel ; 
and  the  altogether  charming  pastoral  romances, 
—  too  delicate  in  tone,  too  vague  in  method,  to 
be  called  novels,  —  the  "  Rosalind  "  of  Thomas 
Lodge  and  the  "Arcadia"  of  Philip  Sidney. 
In  these  works  I  have  given  all  the  important 
predecessors  of  the  novel  in  English  literature. 
They  can,  I  think,  with  but  slight  justice  be 
termed  its  ancestors.  In  German  literature 
for  the  same  period  I  should  name  but  three: 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     29 

—  the  German  translation,  published  in  1569, 
of  the  "  Amadis  of  Gaul "  ;  JDer  Abenteuer- 
lieJie  Simplidus  Simplicissimus  of  Grimmels- 
hausen,  1668 ;  and  the  Robinson  Tales  of 
1720.  In  French  literature  for  the  same 
period  I  should  name  :  La  Princesse  de  Cleves 
of  Madame  de  la  Fayette,  1677,  the  Qil  Bias  of 
Lesage,  1715-1735,  the  Marianne  of  Marivaux, 
1731-1736,  which  antedated  "Pamela"  half  a 
dozen  years  and,  perhaps,  suggested  it,  and 
the  Manon  Lescaut  of  the  Abbe  Provost,  1729- 
1733.  One  may  note  that  the  Manon  Lescaut, ' 
the  Marianne,  and  the  completed  form  of  Gril 
Bias  are  not  only  of  the  same  generation  but 
within  the  same  decade  as  the  earliest  English 
novel.  The  true  novel,  therefore,  appeared 
almost  simultaneously  in  France  and  in  Eng- 
land, though  coming  as  most  literary  forms 
have  apparently  come,  from  the  more  eastern 
to  the  more  western  land. 

And  yet,  while  it  is  true  that  the  decade 
1735  to  1745  saw  the  birth  of  the  novel  in 
both  France  and  England,  and  while  it  is 
true  that  only  three  or  four  predecessors  can 
be  found  in  either  German,  English,  or  French 


30   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

literature,  it  is  not  true  that  we  can  find  no 
works  of  fiction  in  literary  history  to  which 
the  novel  may  be  said  to  stand  in  the  direct 
relation  of  descendant.  The  novel  had  its 
predecessors  in  at  least  three  groups  of 
works.  The  short  tales  found  in  Greek  man- 
uscripts, the  composition  of  which  dates  from 
the  second  to  the  sixth  centuries,  and  which, 
collectively,  are  known  as  the  "  Greek  Ro- 
mances," form  the  first  group.  The  Italian 
and  the  Spanish  romances  of  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries  form  the  second  group. 
The  prose  romances  of  chivalry,  themselves 
the  descendants  of  the  poetic  romances  of 
adventure,  form  the  third  group.  First  in 
time  is  the  Greek  romance  group.  It  has 
come  down  to  us  in  most  fragmentary  condi- 
tion. All  that  we  have  of  it  is  evidence, 
more  or  less  complete,  of  the  existence  of 
eight  tales.  The  first  of  these  is  a  brief 
fragment  of  the  first  or  second  century,  tell- 
ing the  story  of  the  grief  of  one  Nimrod  at 
parting  from  a  loved  one,  Derkeia,  and  tell- 
ing the  efforts  of  Nimrod  to  deserve  her  by 
valiant   conduct  in   a  campaign.      The   scene 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     31 

is  laid  in  Nineveh,  the  language  is  Greek, 
the  material  seems  to  be  Oriental,  and  the 
fragment  is  written  on  a  roll  of  Egyptian 
papyrus,  proving  that  even  at  that  early  date 
literature  passed  the  bounds  of  nationality. 
The  second  of  these  Greek  tales  is  known  to 
us  only  in  the  report  made  six  centuries  after 
the  tale  itself  was  written,  by  one  Photius  of 
Constantinople.  The  book  itself  is  called 
"The  Marvellous  Things  beyond  Thule."  It 
is  the  story  of  the  adventures  of  one  Dinias 
who  met  a  maiden  Dercyllis,  and  with  her 
and  for  her  underwent  marvellous  adventures, 
which  included,  on  his  part,  an  expedition  to 
the  North  Pole  and  to  the  moon,  till,  finally, 
they  happily  returned  to  Tyre.  The  third 
one,  which  is,  like  the  one  just  mentioned, 
of  the  second  century,  is  known  to  us  also 
from  the  account  of  Photius,  and  is  the 
Babylonica  of  Jamblichus.  It  is  the  story 
of  Sinonis,  who,  with  her  husband  Rhodanes, 
flies  from  the  unwelcome  suit  of  Garmus,  the 
king  of  Babylonia.  In  their  flight  they  meet 
with  adventures  in  which  they  elude  their 
enemies   by  feigning   death,   by   occupying    a 


82   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

new-made  tomb,  and  by  claiming  to  be  ghosts. 
They  exterminate  their  enemies  by  prowess 
impossible  here  fully  to  set  forth.  Misfor- 
tunes come  upon  them ;  Sinonis  is  carried  off 
by  a  Syrian  king,  but  finally  Rhodanes  defeats 
the  Syrian  king  and  conquers  the  Babylonian 
king,  and  the  book  ends,  as  a  fiction  should, 
with  Rhodanes  possessor  of  Sinonis,  and  firmly 
seated  on  the  Babylonian  throne.  The  next 
of  these  fictions,  by  one  Xenophon,  is  of  the 
third  century,  and  is  the  first  of  those  we 
have  mentioned  that  has  come  down  to  us 
in  the  original  text.  It  is  the  Uphesiaca 
of  Xenophon  (so  called  after  the  author's 
native  town),  and  is  the  story  of  Anthia  and 
Habrocomas,  who,  having  been  wont  to  scoff 
at  love,  meet  one  day  by  chance  in  the  temple 
of  Diana  at  Ephesus.  They  fall  in  love,  but 
are  doomed  by  Apollo  to  suffer  and  endure 
till  the  God  of  Love  shall  be  appeased.  The 
tale  is  the  story  of  their  travels.  It  is 
a  narration  of  remarkable  adventures.  Of 
course  they  lose  each  other  and  spend  weary 
years  in  search,  and  of  course,  also,  great 
wonders  are  wrought ;   but  in  the  end,  as  a 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     33 

story  should,  the  tale  brings  them  together 
at  Ephesus,  where,  having  been  faithful  to 
each  other  through  their  perils,  they  live 
happily  ever  after.  This  pleasing  fiction  is 
worthy  of  note,  not  alone  because  of  its 
excellence,  but  because  from  it  was  drafted 
one  of  the  famous  mediaeval  stories,  —  "Apol- 
lonius  of  Tyre," — which  has  come  down  to 
us  through  Gower  in  his  Confessio  Amantis^ 
and  through  the  Elizabethan  play,  —  some- 
times called  Shakespearian,  —  of  "  Pericles, 
Prince  of  Tyre."  The  next  of  these  is  the 
most  celebrated,  with  perhaps  one  exception, 
of  the  whole  number.  It  is  the  Ethiopica  by 
one  Heliodorus.  It  is  the  story  of  Thea- 
genes  and  Chariclea,  and  is  really  a  good  tale 
of  adventure.  The  hero  and  heroine  are 
shipwrecked,  saved  by  a  band  of  robbers,  and 
carried  away.  They  are  separated,  and  the 
story  of  the  work  is  the  story  of  the  adven- 
tures of  these  two,  till,  at  last,  in  Ethiopia, 
they  come  happily  to  safe  union,  having  not 
only  passed  through  incredible  dangers  with 
marvellous  feats  of  prowess,  but  having  also 
accomplished   a   great   moral   reform   in   abol- 


34   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

ishing  human  sacrifices  throughout  all  Ethi- 
opia. The  next  story  brings  us  to  the  fifth 
century.  It  is  the  story  of  "  Clitophon  and 
Leucippe,"  and  is  not  unlike  the  others.  It  is 
a  tale  of  two  lovers  who  fly  from  enraged 
parents  by  eloping  over  the  sea.  They  suf- 
fer shipwreck,  are  captured  by  pirates,  and 
are  separated.  Then  the  adventures  begin. 
Clitophon  learns  of  the  death  of  Leucippe 
and  marries  a  widow;  the  widow's  husband 
comes  back ;  Leucippe  is  found,  and  out  of 
it  all  comes  the  most  unlikely  thing  in  the 
world  of  fact,  but  the  most  sensible  thing  in 
the  world  of  fiction,  the  reconciliation  of  the 
original  lovers.  The  next  of  these  fictions  of 
adventure  is,  perhaps,  of  the  sixth  century. 
It  is  entitled  "  Chsereas  and  Callirhoe,"  and 
was  written  by  one  Chariton.  In  it  the 
lovers  have  married,  but  the  husband  becomes 
jealous  and  kills  his  wife,  as  he  supposes,  and 
flies,  leaving  her  for  dead.  The  wife  is  car- 
ried to  a  tomb  which  robbers  break  into,  and 
from  which,  finding  her  alive,  they  sell  her 
into  slavery.  The  husband  learns  this,  and 
the   tale   records   the   search   for   her  by  this 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL      35 

repentant  husband.  The  last  one  of  these 
Greek  tales  that  has  come  down  to  us  is 
the  well-known  "  Daphnis  and  Chloe."  It  is 
in  its  form  rather  a  pastoral  than  a  fiction 
of  adventure,  and  is  the  simple  story  of  the 
lovers  Daphnis  and  Chloe  and  their  trials  with 
their  rivals  and  enemies,  ending  most  happily 
in  a  joyous  wedding  festival.  Such  in  brief- 
est form  is  a  description  of  the  eight  prose 
tales  which  have  come  down  to  us  from 
the  Greek.  They  are  charming  tales,  and  I 
trust  the  brevity  of  my  allusions  to  them  gives 
no  unfavorable  impression.  But  I  think  any 
one  will  note,  as  he  runs  through  the  state- 
ment of  the  plots,  that  the  emotional  bond, 
the  thread  of  love,  running  through  them,  is 
of  the  slightest  possible  description.  They 
are  stories  of  external  adventure,  with  a 
motive  of  desire,  but  with  detail  of  fighting, 
pirates,  war,  shipwreck,  and  strategies.  If  I 
had  been  manufacturing  evidence  to  establish 
a  proposition  that  the  ancestor  of  the  modern 
novel  had  been  a  story  wholly  external,  depict- 
ing only  adventures  of  the  body,  of  the  phys- 
ical  senses,    I   could    have    created  no   better 


86   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

example  of  such  a  theory  than  the  Greek 
fictions ;  and  they  are  in  truth  the  earliest 
predecessors  of  our  modern  novel. 

The  second  group  of  works  of  fiction, 
earlier  in  time  than  the  novel,  and  in  a 
certain  sense  related  to  it,  is  the  group  of 
Italian  and  Spanish  pastorals.  The  direct 
connection  of  the  pastoral  with  the  novel  is 
clear  though  slight ;  and  its  history  is  worth 
considering  here,  because  the  pastoral  forms  a 
link  between  the  literature  before  the  revival 
of  learning,  and  that  of  the  centuries  immedi- 
ately preceding  the  one  that  saw  the  birth  of 
the  English  novel.  The  order  of  descent  is  from 
the  Eclogues  of  Vergil  and  the  Latin  pastoral, 
to  the  Italian  pastoral,  to  the  Spanish  pastoral, 
to  the  English  pastoral  tale  of  Sidney.  The 
names  one  might  mention  would  be  Vergil  in 
the  first  century,  Boccaccio  in  the  fourteenth, 
Sannazaro  in  the  early  sixteenth,  Montemayor 
and  Sidney  in  the  middle  years  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  Honore  D'Urfe  in  the  early 
seventeenth  century.  The  prose  Italian  tale 
of  Boccaccio,  L'Ameto  (1341-1342),  is  a  tale 
of  the  rural  diversions  of  the  hunter  Ameto 


THE  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  NOVEL     37 

and  the  nymph  Lia,  and  of  the  stories  told 
at  the  midsummer  festival  of  Venus.  It 
antedates  by  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  years 
the  poetic  Arcadia  of  Sannazaro,  which  is  the 
tale  of  the  wanderings  of  Ergasto  through 
the  Arcadian  groves.  These  two  tales  sum 
up  the  contributions  of  Italy,  in  complete  form, 
to  the  pastoral  romances.  From  Spain  we  get 
two  works,  at  least,  which  deserve  mention  : 
Ribeiro's  Menina  e  Moga  (Girl  and  Maiden), 
1554,  and  Montemayor's  Diana^  the  latter  the 
most  famous  of  all  the  late  mediaeval  pastoral 
romances.  Ribeiro's  work  is  in  prose,  and  is 
the  story  of  the  loves  and  misfortunes  of  the 
knights  Lamentor  and  Narbindel.  It  is  a  story 
of  pastoral  life,  with  a  suggestion  of  grief, 
affection  and  melancholy,  and  with  machinery 
of  adventures,  misfortunes,  romantic  episodes, 
and  knight  errantry.  Montemayor's  Diana  is 
also  a  story  of  unrequited  love.  Two  swains, 
Sireno,  who  had  loved  and  lost,  and  Sylvano, 
who  had  loved  and  never  gained,  meet  Sel- 
vagia,  who  had  loved  and  thrown  away,  by 
a  brookside  ;  and  forthwith  set  themselves  to 
tell  the  story  of  their  loves  and  sorrows.     To 


38   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

them  enter  a  group  of  nymphs  and  a  shepherd- 
ess, with  new  tales  of  disguises,  distresses, 
and  adventures  ;  and  all  together  they  set  forth 
on  a  pilgrimage  to  the  temple  of  the  goddess 
Diana.  On  the  way  they  rescue  another 
shepherdess,  likewise  in  grief  for  the  loss  of 
a  loved  one.  Arrived  at  the  temple,  the 
priestess  despatches  the  new  shepherdess  on 
a  mission  of  mercy  to  find  her  own  love  and 
the  loved  ones  of  the  others.  She  fills  three 
cups  from  an  enchanted  stream  and  gives  to 
Sireno,  Sylvano,  and  Selvagia,  who  fall  into 
a  sleep  from  which  they  awake  to  happiness, 
gained  through  the  forgetting,  in  sleep,  of 
their  former  affections  and  the  occurrence  of 
new  ones,  means  of  gratifying  which  have 
been  provided  by  the  thoughtful  priestess 
through  the  mission  of  the  travelling  shepherd- 
ess. Happiness  does  not  come  to  all,  but 
rather  the  atmosphere  of  melancholy  pervades 
the  end  of  the  work  ;  for  although  the  loved 
one  of  Sireno  is  returned,  the  potion  of  the 
priestess  has  taken  away  from  Sireno  the 
power  of  loving,  and  the  book  in  its  ending 
is  a  prophecy  of  the  romanticism  of  a  later  day. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     39 

It  may  be  that  the  direct  connection  of  these 
pastoral  tales  with  the  English  novel  is  slight. 
But  they  vastly  influenced  the  literature  of 
Europe.  Sidney's  "  Arcadia  "  in  English  litera- 
ture looks  back  to  them  directly,  and  itself 
influenced  the  later  fiction ;  D'Urfe's  Astree 
in  French  literature  looks  back  to  them,  and 
itself  has  greatly  influenced  later  fictions. 
The  tearfulness  of  Richardson's  "  Pamela,"  the 
pathetic  emotion  of  Marivaux's  Marianne,  are 
akin  to  the  sentimentality  of  the  Diana  of 
Montemayor ;  the  Nouvelle  Heloise  of  Rousseau 
is  saturated  with  this  same  romantic  emotion ; 
and  the  melancholy  of  Sireno,  whose  loved 
one  was  another's  wife,  is  again  with  us  in 
the  despair  of  Werther.  The  relation  of  the 
pastorals  of  the  fifteenth  century  to  the  novels 
of  the  seventeenth  is  indirect ;  it  affects  the 
spirit  rather  than  the  method;  but  the  melan- 
choly sentimentality  of  the  pastoral  tale  is 
the  melancholy  sentimentality  of  the  early 
novel.  We  must  certainly  consider  these  tales 
well  when  searching  for  the  predecessors  of 
the  modern  novel. 

It  is  from  Spain  that   we  get  the  pastoral 


40   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

romance  in  its  finished  form;  it  is  from  Spain 
that  we  get  the  mediaeval  romance  of  chivalry 
in  its  finished  form.  In  one  sense  the  romance 
of  chivalry  has  always  been  with  us,  for 
the  Odyssey  of  Homer  must  be  termed  a 
romance  of  chivalry.  The  Greek  tales  are 
romances  of  adventure  undertaken  in  chival- 
rous devotion  to  an  ideal  love ;  the  prose 
tales  of  Arthur  and  the  poetic  songs  and  lays 
of  the  minstrels  have  as  a  basis  ideal  action, 
and  as  material  romantic  adventure.  But  in 
coherent  form  these  stories  come  to  us  for 
almost  the  first  time  in  the  Spanish  romances 
—  themselves  the  descendants  of  Arthurian 
legends  and  the  minstrel  lays  —  the  Spanish  ro- 
mances of  the  early  sixteenth  century,  notably 
the  Amadis  de  G-aula  (1470-1510).  I  need  not 
tell  the  story  of  this  romance.  It  is  a  heroic 
tale  of  the  loves,  the  adventures,  the  sorrows, 
the  successes,  of  the  knights  who  are  its  heroes. 
It  is  even  now  a  charming  tale,  for  the  recital 
of  the  exploits,  and  the  wanderings,  and  the 
desperate  deeds  throws  about  it  the  magic 
atmosphere  of  the  twilight  days  of  the  later 
Middle    Ages.      Its    noble     deeds,    its    noble 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  NOVEL     41 

thoughts,  its  magical  assistances,  which  had  a 
charm  for  man  in  earlier  ages,  which  had  a 
charm  for  us  in  our  boyhood  years,  have 
a  charm  for  us  to-day.  All  these  things  had 
tremendous  influence  on  the  novel.  Such 
stories,  wrought  into  form  by  the  artists  of 
a  later  day,  are  with  us  still;  such  tales  we 
find  in  Scott,  in  Dumas,  in  Stevenson.  As 
with  the  pastoral,  the  tracing  of  a  direct  line 
of  descent  is  difficult,  but  the  spirit  of  these 
romances  of  the  chivalric  deeds  of  heroes  in 
the  past  is  the  spirit  of  the  historical  romance 
of  to-day.  They  are  not  the  novel ;  but  with- 
out their  influence  the  true  novel  might  never 
have  come. 

They  are  not  the  novel.  For  there  came  a 
day  when  wild  stories  of  the  adventures  of 
knights,  and  kings,  and  princes;  when  tales 
of  unreal  character,  unreal  scenes,  unreal  emo- 
tions; when  tales  of  adventure,  in  lands  far 
away,  under  circumstances  impossible,  and 
with  help  of  enchantment,  and  magic,  and 
superhuman  assistance,  —  there  came  a  day 
when  the  tale  of  all  these  external,  far-off, 
glorious   unrealities   passed    away,   and  in   its 


42       EVOLUTION   OF  THE   ENGLISH   NOVEL 

place  came  the  simple  story  of  a  humble  life, 
in  scenes  real,  at  hand ;  the  story  of  the  emo- 
tion of  a  simple,  homely,  struggling  soul;  the 
story  of  a  Pamela,  of  a  Marianne,  of  a  Manon 
Lescaut,  of  a  Joseph  Andrews,  of  a  Clarissa 
Harlowe.  In  the  middle  years  of  the  seven- 
teenth century  there  came  such  a  day.  When 
that  day  came,  it  was  the  birthday  of  the  Eng- 
lish novel. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  GBOWTH  OP  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION 

In  the  preceding  chapter  a  general  theory  of 
development  in  the  manner  and  the  spirit  of 
the  novel  has  been  given.  It  is  evident  that 
if  this  theory  has  sound  basis,  the  same  general 
law  will  be  manifest  in  each  of  the  separate 
novel  forms.  It  should  be  manifest  in  the 
record  of  the  Novel  of  Personality,  of  the 
Novel  of  History,  of  the  Novel  of  Romance, 
of  the  Novel  of  Purpose.  In  this  chapter  I 
undertake  to  study  the  theory  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Novel  of  Personality,  and  try  to 
illustrate  it  by  discussing  four  novels  :  Gold- 
smith's "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  Miss  Aus- 
ten's "  Pride  and  Prejudice,"  Charlotte  Bronte's 
"Jane  Eyre,"  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne's 
"Scarlet  Letter."  It  is  not  important  that 
two  of  these  novels  are  the  work  of  men  and 
two  the  work  of  women,  nor  is  their  actual 
48 


44   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

chronological  relation  of  especial  importance, 
though  we  may  note  that  they  lie  in  three 
periods  :  "  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield "  having 
the  date  1766  and  being  illustrative  of  the 
spirit  of  the  third  quarter  of  the  eighteenth 
century;  "Pride  and  Prejudice"  having  the 
date  1813  and  being  illustrative  of  the  spirit  of 
the  first  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century ; 
"  Jane  Eyre  "  and  the  "  Scarlet  Letter,"  practi- 
cally contemporaneous  in  date,  —  "  Jane  Eyre  " 
having  the  date  1847,  and  the  "  Scarlet  Letter," 
1850, — being  illustrative  of  the  spirit  of  the 
middle  half  of  the  nineteenth  century.  These 
things  are  not  specially  important  for  the 
purpose,  nor  is  it  important  to  note  that  the 
three  English  novels  in  the  list  —  "  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,"  "Pride  and  Prejudice,"  and 
"Jane  Eyre"  —  were  written  by  authors  who 
were  born  in  country  parsonages,  and  who 
came  in  village  rectories  to  their  knowledge 
of  the  personal  life  they  depicted.  The  con- 
tributions of  the  parsonage  to  the  literature 
of  fiction  tell  a  story  of  patient,  earnest  obser- 
vation which  these  novels  might  easily  be 
made  to  illustrate  and  to  which   many  other 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     45 

works  of  fiction  bear  evidence.  But  the  dis- 
cussion of  that  relation  is  beyond  the  present 
intent.  Nor  is  it  specially  to  the  purpose 
to  go  with  much  detail  into  the  story  of  the 
life  of  Oliver  Goldsmith,  of  Jane  Austen, 
of  Charlotte  Bronte,  or  of  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, save  alone  in  so  far  as  such  study  of 
the  life  is  necessitated  if  one  would  note  the 
outcome  of  that  life  in  expression.  But  I  take 
these  novels,  out  of  all  those  produced  in  the 
one  hundred  years  succeeding  that  year  1740, 
in  which  "  Pamela  "  appeared  and  in  which  the 
true  English  novel  was  born,  because  they 
seem  to  me  to  illustrate  two  phases  of  the 
development  of  fiction  in  modern  days.  They 
illustrate  a  development  from  the  novel  of  the 
outer  life  to  the  novel  of  the  inner  life  ;  from 
the  novel  of  manners,  forms,  persons,  and  per- 
sonages, to  the  novel  of  the  life  struggle  of 
one  single  individual  soul.  And  they  illus- 
trate also  the  fact  that  such  development,  im- 
plying, as  it  does,  increasing  interest  in  the 
individual  life,  presents  the  evolution  of  per- 
sonality in  fiction. 

The  notion  of  personality  is  implied  in  tlie 


46       EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

very  idea  of  the  novel.  Even  in  the  earliest 
novels,  in  "Pamela,"  in  Marianne,  in  "Joseph 
Andrews,"  in  "Tom  Jones,"  in  "The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield,"  we  find  the  story  of  an  individual 
life  to  some  degree  separate,  to  some  degree 
complete  of  definition.  If  the  novel  is  a 
record  of  the  emotion  of  an  individual  soul, 
influenced  by  and  influencing  some  other  soul, 
one  cannot  have  a  novel  until  some  notion  of 
individuality  has  come  into  the  world.  The 
novel  is  a  modern  form  of  expression ;  as  tlie 
notion  of  individuality,  of  personality  in  ordi- 
nary life  entirely  apart  from  all  circumstances, 
is  a  very  late  notion  in  civilization.  The 
notion  of  personality  is  quite  unknown  in  a 
savage  or  semi-barbarous  condition ;  it  is 
unusual  to-day  in  half-evolved  civilizations. 
The  common  people  in  such  countries  are 
scarcely  permitted  to  own  an  individual  life. 
And  as  in  civilization  the  complete  idea  of  the 
value  of  an  individual  and  even  the  complete 
individual  name,  is  slow  in  development,  so  in 
literary  expression  the  complete  individual  is 
a  very  late  product.  In  mediseval  legends  and 
stories   and  romances,   we  have   heroic   types 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN   FICTION     47 

rather  than  men ;  we  have  ideal  personages  in 
the  armor  of  knights,  rather  than  living 
human  beings  ;  we  have  embodiments  of  grace 
in  the  robes  of  queens  and  ladies  fair,  rather 
than  real  women.  Change  the  names  about  of 
any  half  dozen  of  the  heroes  in  the  Orlando 
Furioso^  and  the  fair  ones  for  whom  they 
fought  would  scarcely  have  noticed  a  change : 
we  have  no  real  individual  life  presented  to 
us.  It  is  hardly  until  after  the  Reformation 
that  we  have  a  trace  of  recognition  of  the 
importance  that  the  individual  deserves ;  it  is 
hardly  until  after  Shakespeare  that  we  have 
individuals  in  the  drama.  The  novel  came 
late  into  life ;  but  it  could  not  have  come 
till  the  mind  of  man  recognized  the  notion  of 
personality  apart  from  circumstances.  In  this 
chapter  I  endeavor  to  show  the  growth  of  such 
idea  of  personality  as  illustrated  in  the  novels 
IJiave  named. 

I  I  do  not  need,  of  course,  to  go  deeply  into 
aetail  in  writing  of  Oliver  Goldsmith  or  of 
"The  Vicar  of  Wakefield."  The  brilliant, 
improvident,  inconsequent  Goldsmith  —  the 
friend  of  Johnson,  and  Boswell,  and  Garrick ; 


48   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  author  of  "  The  Good-Natured  Man"  and 
"She  Stoops  to  Conquer";  the  slave  of  letters 
and  the  master  of  letters  —  is  a  figure  too  well 
known  to  literary  history  to  need  exploitation 
here.  Little  enough  was  Goldsmith  like  his 
own  hero,  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield,  save  only 
that  both  were  lovable ;  and  in  no  sense  is 
"  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  an  autobiography. 
|l]i  is  an  imperishable  tale  of  the  misfortunes 
of  that  compound  of  wisdom  and  simplicity, 
of  vanity  and  unselfishness,  of  shrewdness  and 
benevolence  —  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield.  Begin- 
ning his  married  life  in  wealth  and  prosperity, 
he  feeds  the  hungry,  cares  for  the  weak,  and 
lives  with  door  open  to  those  less  favored. 
But  misfortunes  come  upon  him  like  to  those 
upon  the  patriarch  Job :  his  property  is  lost ; 
his  daughter  runs  away  to  misery ;  the  hum- 
bler home  to  which  he  has  had  refuge  is 
destroyed  by  fire  ;  his  son  brings  debt  upon 
him;  he,  at  last,  is  sent  to  prison,  —  and  in 
it  all  he  remains  the  calm,  the  beautiful,  the 
pathetic,  the  humorous  Vicar.  He  is  at  once  a 
Sir  Roger  de  Coverley,  a  Wouter  van  Twiller, 
a  Pickwick ;  an  embodiment  of  the  qualities  of 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     49 

simplicity  and  righteousness.  Hardly  an  em- 
bodiment one  may  say.  It  is  rather  a  sugges- 
tion of  the  qualities  than  a  picture  of  the  per- 
son which  we  get ;  it  is  rather  as  a  personage 
in  an  allegory — an  allegory  of  virtue  pelted  by 
misfortune — than  as  a  person  in  actual  life  that 
the  Vicar  shows  himself  to  us.  The  work  has 
little  plot ;  the  Vicar  shows  little  development 
of  character.  He  stands  for  certain  excellences 
in  character  and  illustrates  the  resistance  to  cir- 
cumstances of  an  unmoved  nature  when  other 
natures  fail.  The  misfortunes  which  come  upon 
him  do  not  come  from  any  act  of  his  and  are 
not  remedied  by  any  act  of  his ;  external  cir- 
cumstances assault  an  allegorical  figure.  It 
is  personality  in  fiction  in  its  earlier  stage. 

Beyond  a  question  we  take  a  long  step  for- 
ward in  the  expression  of  the  novelist's  art 
when  we  go  from  this  somewhat  formless 
sketch  of  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield  to  a  com- 
plete novel,  as  written  by  Jane  Austen.  I 
have  noted  that  it  is  not  important  for  our  pur- 
poses to  observe  that  nearly  half  a  century 
elapsed  between  the  publication  of  "  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,"  in  1766,  and  "Pride  and  Preju- 


50   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

dice,"  in  1813.  Works  in  literature  are,  to  a 
great  extent,  independent  of  time-conditions, 
as  they  are  independent  of  race-conditions. 
Moreover,  though  forty-seven  years  separated 
the  publication  of  Goldsmith's  work  from  that  of 
Jane  Austen,  the  interval  of  creation  was  really 
much  shorter  ;  for  "  Pride  and  Prejudice  "  was 
written  about  1797,  though,  partly  because  it 
was  illustrative  of  the  spirit  of  a  time  in  advance 
of  its  creation,  it  waited  sixteen  years  for  a 
publisher.  Perhaps  the  publisher  who  declined 
it,  who  was  no  other  than  Cadell,  could  not 
believe  that  the  twenty-one-year-old  daughter 
of  a  country  parson,  a  country  girl  scarcely 
of  age,  who  had  lived  all  her  life  in  the  little 
village  of  Steventon,  in  North  Hampshire,  a 
hamlet  so  small  that  perhaps  he  had  difficulty 
in  finding  it  upon  the  map  of  England,  could 
write  a  novel  worth  his  attention.  The  life 
of  Jane  Austen  is  an  interesting  illustration 
of  one  of  the  problems  of  literature  —  the  prob- 
lem of  the  relation  of  the  life  to  the  works  of 
an  author.  All  that  we  know  of  her  father  is 
that  he  was  the  comfortably  wealthy  rector  of 
Steventon;  all  we  know  of   her  opportunities 


GROWTH  OP  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     51 

is  that  they  were  mainly  the  opportunities  of 
a  country  village  ;  her  daily  life  has  left  so 
little  trace  that  we  can  hardly  lay  our  hand 
upon  any  record  of  serious  events  in  its  hap- 
penings; her  personal  life  has  apparently 
wrought  itself  into  the  fibre  of  but  few  of 
the  personages  in  her  novels ;  her  novels  —  as 
purely  objective  as  the  works  of  Shakespeare  — 
contain  no  record  of  the  personal,  the  politi- 
cal, or  the  religious  opinions  of  the  author. 
We  gain  little  knowledge  of  Miss  Austen  from 
contemporary  records,  from  tradition,  or  from 
her  novels.  Her  life  was  in  three  periods  : 
twenty-six  years,  from  1775  to  1801  in  the 
country  rectory  at  Steventon,  in  which  time  she 
wrote  the  first  versions  of  "  Pride  and  Preju- 
dice," "  Sense  and  Sensibility,"  and  "  Northan- 
ger  Abbey " ;  eight  years,  from  1801  to  1809, 
in  Bath  and  Southampton ;  eight  years  in  the 
little  village  of  Chawton,  not  far  from  Alton, 
in  which  time  she  wrote  her  three  remaining 
novels,  —  "  Emma,"  "  Mansfield  Park,"  and 
"  Persuasion."  Two  of  these  novels  —  "  North- 
anger  Abbey  "  and  "  Persuasion  "  —  were  pub- 
lished in  1818,  a  year  after  Miss  Austen's  death. 


52   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

The  others  were  published  between  1811  and 
1816.  These  brief  annals  tell  most  of  the 
story  of  Jane  Austen's  life.  She  was  never 
married;  she  lived  quietly  in  happy  domestic 
life ;  it  was  of  her  own  desire  that  she  knew 
little  of  the  literary  and  of  the  fashionable 
society  of  her  day.  She  was  a  quiet,  detached 
observer  of  the  comedy  of  human  life ;  she  has 
written  for  us  six  almost  flawless,  immortal 
novels. 

The  first  of  these  novels  is  "Pride  and 
Prejudice,"  and  I  take  it  for  this  purpose  rather 
because  it  is  the  first  than  because  it  is  preem- 
inently characteristic  of  the  author,  or  illustra- 
tive of  the  proposition  I  have  named.  It  is 
the  story  of  the  home  life  of  the  family  of  Mr. 
Bennet,  who  lived  in  circumstances  of  reputable 
ease  in  a  village  whose  limited  society  the  reader 
comes  to  know  as  well  as  though  he  had  been 
native  born.  There  is  a  humorous,  whimsical 
father,  a  serious,  ingenious,  designing,  but  in- 
consequent, mother,  and  there  are  five  daugh- 
ters. The  story  is  of  the  various  happenings  as 
these  daughters  win  their  way  to  settlements 
in  establishments  more  or  less  excellent.     It 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     53 

contains  an  imperishable  picture  of  the  high- 
spirited  Elizabeth,  who  wins  at  last  by  virtue 
of  that  nobler  self-respect  which  conquers 
her  own  baser  pride  and  banishes  all  preju- 
dice. If  I  may  claim  later  that  this  is  essen- 
tially a  novel  of  outer  life  rather  than  a  novel 
of  inner  life  ;  that  it  is  essentially  a  novel  of 
form  rather  than  a  novel  of  quality;  that  it 
is  essentially  a  novel  of  personage  rather  than 
a  novel  of  character,  —  I  by  no  means  imply 
that  it  is  no  more  complete  a  work  of  fiction 
than  the  "  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  for  there  is  a 
long  step  forward  in  the  novelist's  art  from 
Goldsmith  to  Jane  Austen.  "  Pride  and  Prej- 
udice" is  an  observation  of  life,  though  a 
satirical  criticism  of  its  outer  phases,  rather 
than  a  study  of  any  of  its  problems.  It  is 
apparently  not  written  to  set  forth  any  prop- 
osition of  living  or  to  develop  any  idea  of 
excellence,  but  simply  to  portray,  impartially, 
objectively,  an  existing  woman  as  Jane  Austen 
saw  her.  It  is  a  dated  society,  and  it  is  a 
dated  woman,  not  the  woman  of  all  time, 
that  we  have  portrayed  ;  but  it  is  a  society 
and  a  woman  portrayed  with   marvellous  per- 


64   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

fection.  In  going  from  "  The  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field" to  Jane  Austen  we  have  gone  from 
singleness  to  complexity;  for,  whereas  in  "The 
Vicar  of  Wakefield  "  we  had  sequence  of  m- 
cident,  in  "  Pride  and  Prejudice "  we  have 
plot,  or  at  any  rate  an  articulation  of  single 
incidents,  actions,  and  emotions  into  a  unity 
of  circumstance,  action,  and  emotion.  And 
if  we  have  in  the  formation  of  the  plot  prog- 
ress from  singleness  to  complexity,  we  have 
this  still  more  in  the  characters  and  in  the 
interest  excited.  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield" 
is  a  quality  and  a  characteristic  put  in  human 
form;  Mr.  Bennet  and  Elizabeth  are  persons 
as  complexly  organized  as  each  of  us  believes 
himself  to  be.  We  have  gone  a  long  way 
toward  completeness  in  the  art  of  the  novel 
when  we  reach  the  novel  as  Jane  Austen 
writes  it. 

Indeed,  if  one  considers  with  care,  one  finds 
that  we  have  gone  very  near  to  a  perfection 
in  this  work  of  Jane  Austen.  We  have  a 
complete  and  technically  a  very  perfect  novel 
form.  We  have  a  limited  area  of  territory, 
definitely  located,   and    reasonably   described. 


GROWTH  OF   PERSONALITY  IN   FICTION     55 

We  have  few  characters,  set  down  with  such 
exactness  of  description  that  not  even  one  of 
the  Pilgrims  in  Chaucer's  Prologue,  not  even 
Robinson  Crusoe  on  his  island,  not  even  Bun- 
yan's  Christian,  is  more  perfectly  known  to  us 
than  is  any  one  of  these  village  people.  We 
have  human  emotions  as  real  as  our  own ;  and 
urged  on  by  these  emotions  the  whole  play 
and  counterplay  of  interest  is  perfectly  known. 
The  characters  form  a  community ;  and  the 
simple,  uneventful  drama  of  the  community  is 
complete.     It  is  very  near  perfection. 

Moreover,  if  we  have  a  complete  novel-form, 
we  have  an  equally  complete  method.  One 
can  use  the  style  of  Jane  Austen  as  a  model  for 
study  in  the  schoolroom.  There  is  repression 
in  every  detail ;  the  plot  is  made  simple  ;  the 
adjective  is  cut  out  of  the  sentences ;  every 
detail  of  finish  is  subordinated  to  a  require- 
ment of  sincerity,  to  a  limited  and  selected 
variety.  The  humor  is  cultivated,  genial ;  it 
is  the  humor  of  an  observer  —  of  a  refined, 
satisfied  observer  —  rather  than  the  humor  of  a 
reformer ;  it  is  the  humor  of  one  who  sees  the 
incongruities,  but  never  dreams  of  questioning 


56   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  general  excellence  of  the  system  as  a  whole. 
All  this  is  the  method  of  a  completed  ideal ;  a 
method  of  manifest  limits,  but  within  its  limits 
absolutely  true. 

Still  further  we  may  claim  that  this  novel 
is  not  only  an  expression  of  a  complete  novel 
form ;  it  is  not  only  expression  of  a  com- 
plete literary  method  ;  it  is  also  an  embodi- 
ment of  completed  ideals.  For,  however 
often  we  may  find  a  humorous  comment  in 
Jane  Austen,  we  look  in  vain  for  a  ques- 
tioning of  the  underlying  basis  of  society. 
We  find  in  it  that  the  natural  world,  that 
the  family  idea,  that  the  social  system,  are 
taken  with  unquestioning  acceptance.  There 
is  no  detail  of  nature  in  Jane  Austen.  The 
fields,  the  parks,  the  forests,  are  accepted  as 
totals  concerning  whose  minute  details  curi- 
osity would  indicate  unsettled  views,  if  not 
vulgar  breeding.  Only  a  gardener,  in  Jane 
Austen's  novels,  would  describe  or  minutely 
examine  a  flower.  There  is  no  questioning  of 
the  family  notion ;  women  must  marry,  and 
the  wishes  of  the  entire  family,  not  the  indi- 
vidual preferences,  are  most  likely  to  determine 


GROWTH  OP  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     57 

the  choice.  There  is  no  questioning  of  the 
county  family  idea,  of  the  patriarchal  com- 
munity, as  the  best,  or  at  least  the  permanent 
notion.  It  is  a  novel  of  perfected  form.  Try 
it  how  you  will,  it  stands  for  the  completeness 
of  that  of  which  "The  Vicar  of  Wakefield" 
was  in  comparison  but  the  crude  and  formless 
sketch.  A  critic  may  read  it  and  pronounce 
it  perfect  of  its  kind.  A  body  of  doctrine  of 
the  novel  can  be  formulated  from  the  very  com- 
plete examples  which  one  finds  in  "  Emma," 
in  "  Sense  and  Sensibility,"  in  "  Northanger 
Abbey,"  or  in  "  Pride  and  Prejudice." 

If  this  be  true,  why,  then,  was  not  this  per- 
fection of  form  the  end  and  completion  of 
the  novel?  It  is  because  perfection  is  next 
door  to  death  ;  imperfection  is,  after  all,  our 
greatest  proof  of  immortality.  All  progress 
is  through  death  and  resurrection ;  the  body 
of  this  perfect  novel  is  to  perish,  its  life  is  to 
go  on  in  another  form.  The  work  of  Jane 
Austen  lacks  one  thing,  and  that  one  thing  is 
intensity  of  interest.  It  lacks  it  because  the 
perfection  is  really  not  the  perfection  of  truth, 
but  the  perfection  of  finish.     The  novel  fails 


58   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

to  stir  our  passions,  to  arouse  our  emotions, 
because  it  lacks  the  one  vital  quality  of  in- 
tensity of  passion.  It  is  natural  because  a 
nature  has  been  developed,  and  it  is  true  to 
such  a  nature  ;  but  natural  as  it  is,  it  is  mostly 
external  nature  that  we  get.  It  is  the  external 
life,  even  of  Elizabeth ;  it  is  the  outward,  the 
unimpassioned,  the  unaroused,  that  is  depicted ; 
it  is,  after  all,  a  novel  of  outer  rather  than 
of  inner  life,  a  novel  of  personage  rather 
than  a  novel  of  character.  It  is  the  perfec- 
tion of  the  novel  of  form ;  we  must  look 
beyond  it  for  the  novel  of  interpretation. 

Possibly  some  reader  may  have  thus  far 
assented  with  a  smile,  thinking,  most  justly, 
that  these  excellent  novels  of  Jane  Austen 
are  so  perfect  that  it  is  very  hard  to  read 
them.  They  are  good  novels  no  doubt,  he 
says  to  himself,  but  they  are  not  intensely 
interesting.  Now  I  do  not  undertake  to 
controvert  this  opinion,  but  I  am  sure  that 
if  the  statement  is  true  of  the  novels  of  Jane 
Austen,  it  is  the  one  thing  that  cannot  be 
said  of  the  novels  of  Charlotte  Bronte.  We 
may  properly  consider  them  next ;  for  if  it  be 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY   IN   FICTION     59 

true  that  in  its  evolution  the  novel  passes 
through  a  phase  of  perfection  of  form  into 
a  phase  of  intensity  of  interest,  when  we  leave 
the  quiet,  placid,  calm,  gently  satirical  novels 
of  Jane  Austen  and  desire  the  message  of 
the  later  day,  we  shall  turn  without  a  ques- 
tion to  the  tempest-stirred  tales  of  Charlotte 
Bronte.  We  turn  without  a  question.  But 
we  do  not  turn  without  a  sigh.  It  is  hard 
to  leave  placid,  calm  perfection  to  turn  to 
rough,  rude  growth,  however  forceful.  The 
novels  of  Jane  Austen  reflect  the  settled, 
sunny  life  of  Southern  England  ;  they  speak 
to  us,  as  did  the  life  of  the  author,  of  peaceful 
content  and  happy  conditions.  Far  other- 
wise with  the  work  or  life  of  the  author  of 
"  Jane  Eyre."  Charlotte  Bronte  was  the 
child  of  strained  conditions.  Her  father  was 
an  Irishman  transplanted  to  the  north  of  Eng- 
land. Her  mother  was  from  Cornwall,  born 
to  the  soft  airs  of  Penzance  and  the  extreme 
southeastern  land,  carried  to  a  quick  life  of 
bleak  happiness  on  the  chilly  moors  of  York- 
shire Placid  completeness  one  would  little 
expect  from  such  conditions  of  parentage,  and 


60       EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

little  enough  of  placid  completeness  do  we 
find  in  the  thirty-nine  years  of  the  life  of 
Charlotte  Bronte.  One  cannot  divide  it  into 
periods.  It  was  a  life  of  experiences  rather 
than  a  life  of  opportunities.  It  was  a  life  of 
emotions ;  it  was  a  personal,  individual  life, 
lived  intensely.  When  Charlotte  was  five 
years  old  her  mother  died,  leaving  six  babies, 
the  eldest  a  child  of  eight  years,  in  the  par- 
sonage of  Haworth  on  the  Yorkshire  moors. 
Three  years  later,  when  eight  years  old,  the 
little  motherless  thing  was  sent  to  that  extraor- 
dinary school  so  vividly  described  in  "  Jane 
Eyre,"  where  the  poor  thing  endured  a  brief 
but  most  unhappy  school  life,  ended  the  next 
year  by  the  death  of  her  two  elder  sisters  and  by 
her  own  grievous  illness.  At  fifteen  she  had 
one  year  of  another  somewhat  better  school. 
At  nineteen  she  was  a  teacher,  and  a  very  poor 
one,  if  we  are  to  take  as  true  her  own  report ; 
at  twenty-three,  and  again  at  twenty-five,  a 
governess.  From  the  age  of  twenty-six  for 
nearly  two  years  she  was  English  teacher  in  a 
school  in  Brussels.  When  she  was  thirty-one 
"Jane  Eyre"  was  published.    When  thirty -two 


GROWTH   OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     61 

her  only  brother,  an  idler,  an  opium-eater, 
and  a  drunkard,  died.  Three  months  after 
the  brother's  death,  Emily,  the  elder  of  the 
two  remaining  sisters,  died.  Five  months 
after  the  death  of  Emily,  Anne,  the  young- 
est and  the  last  of  the  sisters,  passed  away, 
leaving  Charlotte  alone,  at  thirty-three,  to 
comfort  her  half-mad  father,  and  to  write 
"Shirley"  and  "Villette."  At  thirty-six  the 
last  novel  is  finished,  and  the  story  of  the  life, 
so  far  as  related  to  the  writing  of  novels,  is 
ended.  It  all  reads  somewhat  unlike  a  placid 
story  of  happy  living.  It  would  even  seem 
that  happiness  was  not  the  desire  of  Charlotte 
Bronte.  It  is  life  rather  than  delight  that 
she  longs  for.  When  she  is  twenty-three, 
a  poor,  hard-working,  unsuccessful  teacher, 
she  has  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  a  clergy- 
man who  is  a  most  desirable  person.  Had 
the  heroine  in  one  of  Jane  Austen's  novels 
received  such  a  proposal,  she  would  have  been 
compelled  by  her  family  and  her  social  circle 
to  consider  mainly  the  rank,  the  position,  and 
the  prospects  of  the  suitor,  and  a  decision 
made  in  utter  independence  of  such  considera- 


62   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

tions  of  rank,  position,  and  prospects  would 
have  seemed  an  indication  of  rashness  almost 
beyond  the  verge  of  propriety.  But  Char- 
lotte Bronte  incontinently  rejects  the  pro- 
posal, simply  because  she  does  not  love  the 
man  passionately.  "Ten  to  one,"  says  she, 
"I  shall  never  have  the  chance  again,  but  no 
matter ;  I  have  not  for  him  that  intense  at- 
tachment which  would  make  me  willing  to 
die  for  him."  In  that  one  sentence  we  have 
the  key  to  the  interest  we  feel  in  the  lonely, 
tempestuous,  bitter  life  of  the  author  of  "Jane 
Eyre "  ;  we  have  the  key  to  the  immortality 
of  the  three  crude,  half -formed,  intensely  vital 
novels  of  Charlotte  Bronte.  Life  was  worth 
living  to  Charlotte  Bronte  only  when  it  of- 
fered opportunity  for  such  intense  attach- 
ment as  would  make  her  willing  to  die  for 
the  object  of  her  emotion.  This  intense,  per- 
sonal life  went  into  the  novels,  and  has  made 
Villette  and  Jane  Eyre  as  distinct  and  defi- 
nite personalities  as  Charlotte  Bronte  herself. 
Indeed,  perhaps  they  are  more  so,  for  I  sus- 
pect it  would  be  easier  for  most  of  us  to  draw 
a  picture   of   the   soul-life   of   the   struggling 


GROWTH   OF   PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     63 

teacher-governess  of  Hawortli  from  the  story 
of  Jane  Eyre,  or  from  the  story  of  Villette, 
than  from  the  records  of  authentic  history. 
The  characters  are  creations,  and  their  appear- 
ance marks  an  epoch  in  literature,  marks  a 
distinct  and  definite  era  in  the  history  of  the 
novel.  Before  their  appearance  we  had  had 
personages  in  fiction.  In  "  Jane  Eyre,"  for 
the  first  time  in  English  fiction,  the  intensity 
of  life-craving  which  dominates  a  woman  who 
loves  is  presented  in  the  pages  of  the  novel; 
and  the  voice  of  the  outcry  of  her  longing 
comes  to  the  world.  The  story  of  Jane  Eyre 
is  familiar  enough  to  all  of  us.  She  is  a  hero- 
ine of  the  inner  life.  In  the  depiction  of  her 
every  advantage  of  the  external  is  deliber- 
ately, almost  defiantly,  sacrificed.  In  our  old- 
est English  epic,  the  hero,  Beowulf,  fights  a 
dragon,  and  when  going  to  fight  with  a  foe 
who  cannot  wear  armor  and  cannot  carry  a 
sword,  even  though  that  foe  is  a  fire-breathing 
dragon,  Beowulf  chooses  to  sacrifice  every 
external  advantage  and  fights  without  his 
armor  and  without  his  sword.  In  the  Orlando 
Furioso  of  Ariosto,  though  the  hero  carries  an 


64       EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

enchanted  ring  and  wields  a  magic  sword  at 
tournaments,  yet  when  the  conflict  is  for  life, 
he  throws  away  these  adventitious  and  exter- 
nal aids  and  fights  with  simpler  weapons.  So, 
when  Charlotte  Bronte  sets  out  to  depict  a 
stern  struggle  of  the  soul  of  a  woman,  she 
throws  aside  the  external  excellences  by  time- 
honored  custom  given  to  heroines.  The  hero- 
ine of  her  novel  is  small,  dark,  plain,  almost 
insignificant,  in  person ;  she  is  poor ;  she  is  a 
governess  serving  under  orders.  How  shall 
one  make  a  heroine  out  of  such  as  this  ?  And 
the  hero,  what  shall  he  be  in  a  novel  ?  Shall 
he  not  be  beautiful,  graceful,  courteous,  vir- 
tuous, and  eligible  ?  What  say  you  to  a  hero 
who  is  ugly,  who  is  awkward  and  brutal,  who 
has  been  dissipated,  and  who  has  a  wife  ?  It 
is  as  if  in  the  interest  of  the  intenser  life  that 
Charlotte  Bronte  counted  all  external  things 
but  as  dross,  and  would  have  us  also  count 
them  as  things  not  worth  our  care.  The 
influences  upon  the  heroine  in  "  Jane  Eyre " 
are  not  from  the  outside.  She  is  moved, 
stirred,  aroused,  by  the  strength  of  her  own 
emotion  solely.     The  dominance  of  the  exter- 


GROWTH  OF   PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     65 

nal  in  the  novel  of  personal  life  was  ended 
when  "Jane  Eyre"  was  written.  The  one  thing 
lacking  in  "Pride  and  Prejudice"  is  intensity 
of  interest.  The  one  thing  thrilling  through 
"  Jane  Eyre  "  and  "  Villette  "  is  intensity  of  in- 
terest —  interest  in  a  system  of  life,  interest  in 
nature,  interest  in  one's  own  soul-life,  interest 
in  emotion  as  emotion.  When  "  Jane  Eyre  "  is 
finished,  passion  has  entered  into  the  novel. 

There  is  interest  in  a  system  of  life  in  these 
novels  of  Charlotte  Bronte.  There  was,  to  be 
sure,  a  careful  portrayal  of  an  existing  system 
of  life  in  "  Pride  and  Prejudice,"  in  "  North- 
anger  Abbey,"  or  in  "  Emma."  But  there 
was  very  little  interest  manifested  in  it  by  any 
one.  The  characters  endured  their  lives  in 
Jane  Austen's  novels  rather  than  lived  them. 
We  found  tolerant  or  tired  acceptance,  tem- 
pered by  gentle  sarcasm  and  humorous  com- 
mentary, to  be  the  attitude  toward  the  social 
system.  No  one  seemed  to  care  very  much 
about  it,  to  be  very  much  elated  by  its  pleas- 
ures, or  very  much  depressed  by  its  disasters. 
In  so  far  as  any  feeling  existed  toward  the 
social    and    religious   system   then   prevailing. 


66       EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

it  was  a  feeling  of  comfortable  acceptance, 
always  with  the  reservation  that  one  might 
make  his  little  witticism  concerning  its  in- 
congruities. But  there  is  no  acceptance  in 
"  Jane  Eyre."  The  book  is  a  story  of  spirit- 
ual, of  intellectual  revolt.  The  injustice  and 
incongruities  of  the  social  system  are  not 
merely  matter  for  humorous  comment  to 
Charlotte  Bronte,  or  to  Jane  Eyre,  or  to  Vil- 
lette.  Intensity  of  interest  in  the  justice  or 
injustice  of  social  procedure  gives  to  any 
question  concerning  this  system  a  serious- 
ness too  complete  for  jesting.  There  is  inter- 
est, too,  in  nature.  In  "Jane  Eyre"  the 
world  without  is  not  to  be  compared  with 
the  world  within,  and  yet  no  novel  up  to 
this  time  had  portrayed  the  natural  world  so 
well,  because  it  portrays  it  through  the  inter- 
ested eyes  of  Jane  Eyre.  There  is  interest 
in  soul-life.  There  is  interest  in  emotion  as 
emotion.  The  life  of  the  novel  of  "  Jane 
Eyre,"  of  "  Villette,"  is  the  soul-life  of  the 
woman  Jane  Eyre,  of  the  woman  Villette. 
We  live  that  life  with  her.  And  the  inten- 
sity of  that  soul-life   fills  the   book  with  an 


GROWTH   OF  PERSONALITY   IN   FICTION     67 

energy    of    assertion    of    life    which    is    the 
essence  of  individuality. 

It  is  small  wonder  that  the  book,  "Jane 
Eyre,"  had  to  fight  for  its  life.  An  intensely 
vital  individual  is  not  a  comfortable  addition 
to  a  satisfied  community.  An  intensely  inter- 
ested person  is  an  Oliver  Twist  whose  asking 
for  more  is  a  demand  likely  to  be  most  un- 
pleasant to  the  controllers  of  the  existing 
vested  interests.  The  novel,  "  Jane  Eyre," 
was  a  story  of  such  an  intensely  vital  individ- 
ual, of  such  an  intensely  interested  person. 
Jane  Eyre  was  a  person  who  came  asking  ques- 
tions and  presenting  opinions  likely  enough 
to  disturb  settled  usages  in  the  existing  social 
order  of  the  England  of  1847.  Indeed,  the  book 
seemed  to  strike  a  blow  at  the  very  basis  of 
things  in  the  social  order.  It  is  small  wonder 
it  was  called  immoral.  This  little,  plain,  obscure 
individual,  Jane  Eyre,  did  more  than  to  ques- 
tion the  wisdom  of  existing  forms  and  to  speak 
the  language  of  revolt.  Others  had  questioned; 
and  some  had  spoken — though  not  in  novels  — 
the  language  of  revolt.  But  she  went  farther, 
and  asserted  the  right  of  the  individual  man 


68   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

—  worse  yet,  the  right  of  the  individual 
woman — to  make  decisions  against  conven- 
tion, against  custom,  even  against  authority; 
she  asserted  the  right  of  this  individual  man, 
of  this  individual  woman,  to  make  final  deci- 
sions on  the  most  momentous  questions.  We 
are  somewhat  used  to  such  a  doctrine  as 
this  in  these  days  of  the  New  Woman  ;  but 
it  certainly  was  not  the  accepted  doctrine  in 
the  social  and  literary  England  of  fifty  years 
ago.  "  This  story,"  said  the  most  bitter  and 
the  most  candid  of  hostile  reviewers,  "  is  a 
picture  of  a  natural  heart."  "Jane  Eyre  is 
throughout  a  personification  of  an  unregener- 
ate  and  undisciplined  spirit."  "The  biogra- 
phy of  Jane  Eyre  is  preeminently  an  anti- 
Christian  composition."  "  It  is  true  that 
Jane  Eyre  does  right,  and  exerts  great  moral 
strength  ;  but  it  is  the  strength  of  a  mere 
heathen  mind  which  is  a  law  unto  itself." 
These  are  the  words  of  one  critic ;  but  he 
voiced  the  judgment  of  many.  For,  to  many 
persons  in  the  England  of  1847,  it  appeared 
that  a  mind,  especially  a  female  mind,  which 
evinced    individuality   enough    to    be   in    any 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     69 

degree  a  law  unto  itself,  was  a  heathen  mind, 
and  was  the  fit  co-partner  of  an  unregenerate 
and  undisciplined  spirit.  Besides  this  re- 
viewer, many  voices  called  the  book  immoral, 
and  with  much  show  of  reason  ;  for  certainly, 
from  the  standpoint  of  one  completed  and 
complacent,  it  must  at  that  time  have  seemed 
a  most  immoral  book.  For  example,  to  one 
satisfied  that  the  then  accepted  church  doc- 
trines and  the  then  prevailing  church  forms  were 
final  doctrines  and  eternal  forms,  the  religious 
questionings  in  "Jane  Eyre"  must  have  seemed 
such  a  revolt  against  the  moral  government 
of  this  world,  such  a  revolt  against  the  fixed 
order  of  the  moral  universe,  such  a  revolt 
against  the  government  of  God,  as  must  tend 
to  overthrow  the  very  foundations  of  morality. 
Jane  does  not  gently  comment.  She  defiantly 
questions.  She  asks  for  such  an  answer  as 
will  convince  her  own  intellect  and  satisfy 
her  own  heart's  deepest  desire ;  wanting  which 
answer,  she  stands  apart,  demanding.  This 
is  a  new  attitude  in  the  novel.  To  all  the 
personages  in  the  novels  of  Jane  Austen,  the 
assertion  of  the  right  of  individual  reason  to 


70   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

inquire,  question,  search  out,  and  decide  in 
accord  with  the  judgment  of  individual  rea- 
son would  have  seemed  a  dangerous  doctrine. 
And  to  most  of  them,  any  interest  in  such 
questions  would  have  seemed  to  indicate  an 
uncultivated,  if  not  a  perverted,  mind. 

But  the  religious  questions  in  the  book 
were  its  least  dangerous  utterances,  important 
only  as  indicating  an  attitude  of  mind  and 
spirit.  Vastly  more  disturbing  to  the  society 
of  1847  was  the  conception  of  the  ideal  social 
order  as  it  lay  in  Charlotte  Bronte's  mind. 
It  was  a  crude  enough  social  system  that 
Charlotte  Bronte  suggested  in  "Jane  Eyre." 
A  society  filled  with  Jane  Eyres  and  Roch- 
esters  would  be,  even  now,  a  little  irksome. 
But  its  presentation  does  not  startle  now 
as  it  did  forty  or  fifty  years  ago.  Then  it 
certainly  gave  a  picture  out  of  accord  with 
ideas  of  propriety,  if  not  out  of  accord  with 
the  accepted  principles  of  morality.  The 
extreme  ugliness  of  Rochester  was  an  in- 
congruous notion  out  of  harmony  with  the 
proper  attitude  toward  the  hero  of  a  book. 
The  conduct  of  Jane  Eyre   toward  Rochester 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     71 

—  and  we  remember  that  she  horrified  all 
England  by  telling  him  she  loved  him  — 
certainly  went  beyond  the  notions  of  most 
men  of  the  proper  method  of  a  maiden  toward 
a  man.  Likewise  the  attitude  of  Roch- 
ester toward  Jane,  with  its  brutal  frankness, 
its  roughness,  its  domineering,  hard-handed 
kindness,  was  a  new  attitude  for  a  lover,  and 
not,  at  first  sight,  an  inviting  one.  Under- 
neath it  there  seemed  to  be  a  philosophy  still 
more  dangerous  than  the  exhibition  of  man- 
ners and  customs ;  for  Jane  Eyre  certainly 
hints,  and  Rochester  certainly  hints,  by  both 
speech  and  conduct,  at  the  equality  of  the 
sexes ;  and  the  notion  of  the  equality  of  the 
sexes  was,  I  suspect,  an  immoral  notion  in 
the  England  of  1847. 

But  all  these  questions  of  religion,  these 
questions  of  social  order,  these  questions  of 
convention,  are  but  the  detail ;  and  all  these 
little  matters  of  method,  these  matters  of 
attitude  and  philosophy,  are  also  but  detail. 
At  the  basis  of  them  all  lies  the  tremen- 
dous emphasis  laid  in  the  book  upon  indi- 
vidual life  and  upon  individual  passion.    Quick 


72       EVOLUTION  OF  THE   ENGLISH  NOVEL 

life,  hot  love,  vital  emotion,  personal  influence, 
—  these  are  the  essentials  of  existence  to  Jane 
Eyre.  The  right  of  the  uninstructed  indi- 
vidual to  stand  alone  against  all  principali- 
ties, all  conventions,  dignities,  powers  ;  the 
right  of  a  man  to  frame  his  life  in  accord 
with  his  own  will,  no  matter  what  society- 
might  say  ;  the  right  of  the  soul  of  man  or 
woman  to  stand  as  peer  of  any  other  soul, 
be  it  man  or  woman  ;  the  right  of  a  woman 
to  love,  and  to  die  so  please  she  for  her 
love,  —  these  rights  demanded  Jane  Eyre.  It 
is  the  first  intense  presentation  of  individu- 
ality in  fiction. 

Jt  is  individuality,  but  it  is  not  its  highest 
form.  It  is  an  assertive  individuality  rather 
than  a  commanding  personality  that  we  find  in 
Jane  Eyre.  For  strong  as  it  is,  vigorous,  ener- 
getic, vital,  intense  as  is  the  presentation,  it  is, 
after  all,  but  a  single  individual  that  is  pre- 
sented. And  that  individual  is  presented 
as  out  of  sympathy  with,  if  not  as  in  revolt 
from,  the  accepted  principles  of  life.  Jane 
Eyre  is  presented  to  us  as  an  individual, 
separate,  detached,  assertive,  independent.     She 


GROWTH   OF  PERSONALITY   IN  FICTION     73 

does  not  influence,  nor  does  she  strive  to  influ- 
ence, those  who  live  about  her.  To  work  out 
her  own  life  is  the  sole  concern  of  her  existence. 
The  representation  of  a  strong  personality 
under  stress  of  many  emotions,  accepting  the 
compulsion  of  organic  relation  to  the  commu- 
nity about  it,  accepting  the  responsibilities  as 
well  as  the  opportunities  of  life,  would  be  a 
picture  of  something  more  complete,  more 
developed,  than  a  selfish,  irresponsible  indi- 
vidual. A  study  of  such  a  personality  in 
fiction  would  indicate  a  later  rather  than  an 
earlier  stage  of  the  novelist's  art.  And  if  it  is 
true  that  these  were  days  when  the  conviction 
of  the  value  of  individual  opinion,  and  of  the 
importance  of  individual  action,  was  working 
its  way  into  the  literature  of  the  novel,  we 
might  expect  that  a  defiant  assertion  of  an 
individuality  in  fiction  would  be  followed  by  a 
less  violent  but  a  more  subtle,  a  less  crude  but 
a  more  studied,  a  less  simple  but  a  more  com- 
plete, presentation  of  the  relation  of  such 
individuality  to  society  at  large.  We  might 
expect  to  find  a  study  of  a  complex  individual- 
ity, a  matured  and  developed  personality.     If 


74   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

found,  it  would  seem  to  indicate  a  later  stage 
of  expression  in  fiction.  Such  a  study  of  the 
development  of  personality  I  suggest  in  the 
story  of  the  life  of  Hester  Prynne  in  Haw- 
thorne's "  Scarlet  Letter."  It  is  not  because  it 
stands  alone  as  an  example  of  excellence  in 
fiction  that  I  take  this  particular  novel.  The 
years  between  1840  and  1850  were  fruitful.  In 
those  ten  years,  as  one  remembers,  in  France, 
Dumas  was  writing  the  "  Monte  Cristo," 
Eugene  Sue  "  The  Wandering  Jew."  In  Eng- 
land, Bulwer  was  writing  "  The  Caxtons "  ; 
Mrs.  Gaskell  was  writing  "  Mary  Barton "  ; 
Charles  Kingsley  was  writing  "  Alton  Locke  " 
and  "  Yeast "  ;  Dickens  was  writing  "  David 
Copperfield"  ;  Thackeray  was  writing  "  Vanity 
Fair"  and  "Pendennis."  In  Russia,  Turg^nieff 
was  writing  the  "  Annals  of  a  Sportsman  "  to 
free  the  serfs  in  Siberia.  In  America,  Mrs. 
Stowe  was  writing  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin "  to 
free  the  slaves  of  our  Southern  States.  It  was 
a  great  era  of  novel-expression.  Yet  among  all 
these  novels  there  is,  perhaps,  no  single  one 
which  presents  to  us  with  such  power,  and 
with  so  little  of  distracting   circumstance,  a 


GROWTH   OF  PERSONALITY  IN   FICTION     75 

single  person  whose  soul-struggle  stands  for 
the  world-sadness  and  the  world-stress  of  hu- 
manity. It  is  conflict  that  we  have  in  "  Jane 
Eyre,"  an  assertion  of  individual  will,  a  fine 
capacity  of  individual  emotion,  and  all  this  in 
conflict  with  the  world  opposing.  But  it  is 
struggle,  not  conflict,  the  inner,  not  the  outer, 
warfare,  that  we  have  in  Hester  Prynne.  It  is 
the  stir  and  the  struggle  of  the  soul  afflicted, 
punished,  but  growing  into  larger  development, 
into  riper  life,  through  this  stress  and  strug- 
gle and  affliction.  And  if  I  seemed  to  indicate 
that  the  novel  was  in  process  of  development 
when  I  wrote  that  the  vitality  of  the  assertion 
of  life  was  the  essence  of  individuality,  and 
that  because  of  this  vitality  "  Jane  Eyre  "  was 
an  indication  of  an  advance  in  the  art  of  fiction 
beyond  the  spirit  and  the  method  of  Jane 
Austen's  day,  then  I  may  further  claim  now 
that  the  completed  picture  of  the  soul  of  Hester 
Prynne  is  indicative  of  a  step  in  advance  as 
great  as,  if  less  marked  than,  the  step  from 
Jane  Austen  to  Charlotte  Bronte.  It  is  a  step 
in  advance  because  the  picture  of  Hester  Prynne 
portrays  a  human  soul  not  merely  as  a  strong. 


76   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

demanding  individuality,  but  as  under  stress  of 
such  relation  to  verdict  of  law  and  to  the  rights 
of  fellow-mortals  as  to  compel  its  development 
into  a  completed  personality.  The  novel  of 
the  "  Scarlet  Letter "  is  one  of  the  links  in 
the  development  of  the  novel  from  a  means  of 
portraying  single  phases  of  emotion  to  a 
vehicle  of  highest  expressional  power.  It  was 
written  by  a  psychological  student  of  the  prob- 
lems which  harass  the  human  soul.  There  is 
little  need  to  say  much  concerning  the  life  of 
Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  for  it  is  familiar  enough 
to  most  of  us.  And  there  is  little  need,  in  any 
case,  here  to  present  that  life,  for  the  "  Scarlet 
Letter  "  does  not  reflect  the  life  of  Hawthorne 
in  any  such  sense  as  does  Villette  or  Jane 
Eyre  reflect  the  life  of  Charlotte  Bronte. 
The  "  Scarlet  Letter  "  is  in  no  sense  an  auto- 
biographical novel.  It  is  the  study  of  a  de- 
velopment of  a  human  soul  under  circumstances 
of  stress  and  conditions  of  struggle.  The  scene 
is  in  the  Puritan  colony  of  Massachusetts  in  the 
middle  years  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The 
conditions  of  life  were  hard  in  the  Puritan 
Colony.    The  religion  the  Puritan  believed,  the 


GROWTH  OP  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     77 

religion  the  Puritan  lived,  was  a  hard  religion. 
There  was  little  room  for  more  than  justice. 
There  was  no  poetry  in  the  lives,  and  little  in 
the  hearts,  or  on  the  lips,  of  our  stern  ancestors 
in  New  England  two  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago.  Such  environment  Hawthorne  gives  to 
the  characters  of  his  story.  It  is  a  tragedy  — 
a  tragedy  sombre,  intense,  unrelieved.  It  is 
almost  a  fatalistic  tragedy  ;  almost  as  stern  as 
if  it  had  been  written  by  ^schylus.  It  is  not 
a  love  story ;  it  is  not  a  story  of  youth  ;  it  is 
not  a  story  of  contemporaneous  life  ;  it  is  not 
a  story  of  eager  hope.  Hester  Prynne  having 
sinned  is  doomed  for  punishment  to  wear  the 
scarlet  letter  as  the  symbol  of  the  seared  soul 
forever  on  her  bosom  ;  made  an  outcast  from 
social  joy  forever.  And  the  story  is  the  record 
of  the  growth  of  the  thoughtless  soul  of  the 
girl,  Hester  Prynne,  into  the  sad,  strong  soul 
of  a  mature  woman.  As  accessories  to  this 
record  of  growth,  we  have  scenery  of  circum- 
stance and  scenery  of  characters.  To  get 
perspective,  atmosphere,  verisimilitude,  Haw- 
thorne goes  back  to  a  recognizable  era  of  past 
history.      He  paints  with  steadiness  the  out- 


78   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

ward  aspects,  and  makes  credible  the  inner 
motive,  of  the  Puritan  Colony  in  the  Boston 
of  1658.  Yet  the  book  is  in  no  sense  an 
historical  novel.  To  give  vividness,  concrete- 
ness,  objectivity,  to  this  story  of  the  inner 
life,  to  this  record  of  the  growth  of  the  con- 
science, of  the  growth  of  responsibility,  of 
the  growth  of  religion,  within  the  breast  of 
Hester  Prynne,  Hawthorne  uses  the  symbol- 
ism which  is  the  picture  language  of  the  in- 
fancy of  awakening  fancy.  In  the  story  he 
carries  on  the  crude  symbolism  of  the  Puritan 
court  of  justice  decreeing  a  visible  A  as  an 
objective  reminder  of  the  branded  heart  — 
carries  on  this  crude  symbolism  into  the  most 
delicate  and  refined  suggestions.  The  un- 
seen forces,  the  unseen  monitors,  the  unseen 
avengers,  float  before  our  eyes,  are  painted  on 
the  clouds,  are  burned  upon  the  flesh,  in  mys- 
tic symbols.  These  mystic  symbols  are  like 
the  weird  sisters  in  "  Macbeth  "  ;  they  are  the 
objectification  of  mystery.  The  revelation  of 
the  working  of  the  spirit  of  regeneration  upon 
the  soul  of  Hester  Prynne  is  embodied  for 
us  in  the  weird  child,  Pearl.     She  is  a  living 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN   FICTION     79 

symbol,  at  once  the  incarnation  of  sin,  the 
personification  of  the  Scarlet  Letter,  the  em- 
blem of  hope,  and  the  prophecy  of  pardon. 
All  this  is  the  poetry  of  mysticism.  Yet  the 
"  Scarlet  Letter  "  is  no  more  a  mystical  romance 
than  it  is  an  historical  novel. 

But  if  we  have  mediaeval  mysticism  in 
the  symbolism  of  the  work,  we  have  some- 
thing very  like  Greek  simplicity  and  Greek 
directness  in  the  development.  The  novel 
is  a  Greek  tragedy.  Like  the  Greek,  it  is 
synthetic  and  creative  rather  than  analytic. 
Like  the  Greek  tragedy,  the  novel  of  the 
"  Scarlet  Letter "  has  a  single  story,  few 
principal  characters,  largeness,  unity  of  treat- 
ment, directness,  sternness,  relentlessness.  As 
in  the  Greek  tragedy,  also,  the  story  begins 
after  the  guilt  has  been  incurred,  and  the 
motive  of  the  story  is  the  relation  of  the 
soul  of  man  to  Nemesis  and  justice.  There 
is  Greek  suggestion  even  in  the  minor  detail; 
Pearl  is  as  a  chorus  to  voice  for  us  the  com- 
ment of  the  unseen  powers.  There  is  Greek 
atmosphere.  All  the  characters  seem  to  be 
being  rather  than  acting.     Yet  the  novel  is 


80       EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

no  more  a  Greek  tragedy  than  it  is  an  his- 
torical tale;  it  is  no  more  a  Greek  tragedy 
than  it  is  a  mediaeval  romance.  It  is,  in  one, 
a  Greek  tragedy,  a  mediaeval  romance,  a  mod- 
ern historical  tale.  It  is  a  master  work,  lim- 
ited to  no  age,  belonging  to  all  experiences, 
to  all  time. 

The  "  Scarlet  Letter "  is  a  study  of  the 
working  of  Nemesis  upon  three  human  souls. 
Hester  has  sinned,  and  openly  bears  that  pun- 
ishment of  which  the  scarlet  letter  is  the 
visible  symbol.  Dimmesdale  has  also  sinned, 
but,  not  yet  overtaken  by  discovery,  is  striv- 
ing by  the  nobility  of  his  present  life  to 
avoid  the  revenging  Fates.  Chillingworth, 
least  of  the  three,  has  not  technically  sinned, 
but  has  twice  violated  the  sanctity  of  a  human 
soul,  in  marrying  Hester  without  love,  and 
in  assuming  the  right  to  privately  punish 
the  guilty.  To  Chillingworth  comes  failure 
and  the  hopelessness  of  hate ;  to  Dimmesdale 
comes  salvation  through  confession  and  sac- 
rifice ;  to  Hester  comes  a  renewed  and  sanc- 
tified soul  perfected  through  suffering.  The 
message  of  the   novel  is  that   punishment  is 


GROWTH  OF  PERSONALITY  IN  FICTION     81 

spiritual,  that  it  avails  not  to  brand  the 
bosom  nor  to  compel  penance  for  the  flesh. 
It  is  the  soul  that  sins ;  it  is  the  soul  that 
must  atone. 

There  is  a  lesson  which  goes  beyond  this 
message.  It  goes  beyond  any  philosophy  of 
individuality  hitherto  manifested  in  fiction, 
for  we  have  in  the  "Scarlet  Letter"  some- 
thing far  greater  than  an  assertion  of  indi- 
viduality such  as  flashed  out  in  Jane  Eyre. 
We  have  in  it  something  more,  even,  than  a 
portrayal  of  the  slow  development  of  person- 
ality through  discipline,  renunciation,  and 
suffering.  The  lesson  of  the  "Scarlet  Let- 
ter" goes  beyond  the  suggestion  of  such 
spiritual  assertion  as  one  finds  in  Jane  Eyre. 
It  is  the  lesson  of  Abnegation.  To  make 
confession,  to  yield,  to  abase  oneself,  —  this 
it  is  to  be  strong,  to  conquer,  to  exalt  one- 
self. It  is  the  old  lesson  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, "He  that  loseth  his  life  shall  save  it." 
For  to  such  a  man  as  Dimmesdale  confession 
was  the  giving  up  of  self  to  bring  himself  into 
right  relations  with  others.  Hester  Prynne 
has  lost,  Dimmesdale  loses,  the  pride  of  indi- 


82   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

viduality  to  gain  the  reality  of  life.  This  is 
the  greatest  lesson  of  the  book.  The  life  of 
abnegation,  not  the  life  of  assertion,  is  the  life 
which  makes  for  final  influence  and  completes 
the  personality. 

Through  such  stages  the  novel  seems  to 
have  gone  in  its  evolution  in  the  middle  years 
of  the  nineteenth  century.  It  then  came  to 
effectiveness  as  an  instrument  for  portraying 
the  complex  emotions  of  the  human  soul. 
In  its  pages  thenceforth  one  finds  embodi- 
ments of  individuals,  personalities,  human 
souls.  From  this  study  of  its  growth  and 
complexity  it  would  be  easy  to  predict  that 
the  next  stage  of  the  novel  would  be  the 
exposition  of  the  individual's  duty  to  soci- 
ety and  of  society's  duty  to  the  individual. 
Such  is  the  next  stage  in  the  novel ;  and 
we  come  to  the  Novel  of  Purpose.  And  we 
might  predict  that  the  stage  succeeding  would 
be  the  deeper  study  of  the  relations  of  the  in- 
dividual to  the  life  about  him.  This  is  the 
succeeding  stage,  and  we  come  to  the  Novel 
of  Problem.  Indeed,  the  Novel  of  Purpose 
and   the   Novel   of   Problem  are  almost  pres- 


GROWTH   OF  PERSONALITY  IN   FICTION     83 

ent  with  us  in  the  work  of  Hawthorne.  The 
masterpiece  is  of  no  age  ;  it  is  of  all  ages. 
The  "Scarlet  Letter"  is  not  alone  an  inter- 
pretation of  personality.  It  is  the  first  sug- 
gestion and  the  forerunner  of  the  Novel  of 
Purpose  and  of  the  Novel  of  Problem.  It 
is  the  convincing  proof  of  the  greatness  of 
the  art  of  Hawthorne  that  the  "  Scarlet  Let- 
ter" is  thus  at  once  a  presentation  and  a 
prophecy. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL 

Strictly  speaking,  the  name  "Historical 
Novel "  is  a  contradiction  in  terms.  For  what- 
ever specific  meaning  we  may  give  to  the  term 
novel,  in  special  application  to  such  forms  as 
the  romance,  the  story,  the  fiction  of  purpose, 
problem,  or  adventure,  we  never  fail  to  under- 
stand the  term  novel  to  be  the  designation 
of  a  work  of  fiction.  On  the  other  hand,  how- 
ever freely  we  may  interpret  the  word  histori- 
cal, however  much  of  philosophy,  social  science, 
political  economy,  or  even  of  domestic  and 
community  life,  we  may  consider  as  properly 
within  its  province,  we  certainly  take  the  facts 
of  life,  the  records  of  actual  past  existence,  as 
its  basis.  Fiction  is  the  underlying  basis  of 
the  novel ;  fact  is  the  underlying  basis  of  his- 
tory. The  historical  novel  apparently  becomes 
a  novel  by  virtue  of  departure  from  history, 
81 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  85 

and  in  so  far  as  it  is  a  history  it  is  less  than 
perfect  as  a  novel.  Either  bad  history  or  bad 
fiction  must  be  the  result.  Thus  says  logical 
theory  ;  and  the  inevitable  conclusion  from 
this  reasoning  is  adverse  to  the  historical  novel 
as  a  justifiable  literary  form. 

This  one  may  postulate  as  theory  ;  and  from 
such  theoretical  demonstration  alone  may  logi- 
cally declare  that  the  historical  novel  is  impos- 
sible. And  indeed,  this  declaration  would  be 
well  supported  by  the  consideration  of  the  facts 
of  literary  history ;  for  we  search  in  vain  the 
literatures  of  the  world,  previous  to  the  nine- 
teenth century,  for  good  examples  of  the  his- 
torical novel.  One  can,  indeed,  go  back  to 
Greek  literature  and  find  support  of  literary 
opinion  for  the  proposition  that  the  Cyropoedia 
of  Xenophon  had  in  it  characteristics  of  a 
historical  novel.  But  the  more  one  considers 
this  excellent  work,  the  less  satisfied  one  is 
with  the  proposition  that  it  is  a  historical 
novel.  Certainly  the  Cyropoedia  has  histori- 
cal elements  in  it ;  and  also  enough  ficti- 
tious elements  to  make  it  possible  to  consider 
it  in  a  study  of  fiction.      But  it  is  really  a 


86   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

political  treatise,  presenting  suggestions  for 
the  education  of  a  king,  and  illustrating  them 
by  historical  analogies.  In  any  sense  which 
we  in  modern  times  give  to  the  word  novel, 
or  to  the  word  historical,  it  cannot  be  said  to 
be  a  historical  novel.  Nor  do  we  fare  better 
in  our  search  if  we  go  on  through  Greek  his- 
tory to  the  later  period.  There  were  romances 
in  the  literature  of  Greece  after  the  Alexan- 
drian conquest ;  but  they  were  tales  of  adven- 
ture, entirely  disconnected  from  history.  We 
cannot  find  the  historical  novel  in  Roman 
literature.  Nor  is  our  search  rewarded  better 
in  Mediaeval  times.  There  were  sagas,  heroic 
romances,  epical  romances,  poems  of  adventure, 
romances  of  chivalry ;  but  there  is  certainly 
no  historical  novel  in  the  whole  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  We  come  down  to  very  modern  times, 
to  the  dawn  of  the  present  century,  before 
we  find  a  single  example. 

Such  is  the  testimony  of  literary  history. 
Yet  this  absence  of  the  historical  novel  from 
the  literatures  of  the  world  up  to  very  recent 
days  does  not  really  prove  so  much  as  to  the 
legitimacy  of  such  a  literary  form  as  would  at 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  87 

first  appear.  For  it  might  have  been  inferred 
that  the  historical  novel  must  necessarily  have 
been  a  very  late  form  of  fiction.  What  is  the 
historical  novel  ?  It  is  a  record  of  individual 
life,  of  individual  emotion,  in  circumstances 
and  times  of  historical  interest.  For  its  mak- 
ing two  things  are  requisite,  —  that  there  be 
a  conception  of,  and  a  fondness  for,  the  facts 
and  spirit  of  history ;  and  that  there  be  a 
knowledge  of,  and  an  appreciation  of,  the 
importance  of  the  individual  life.  Now  both 
these  requisites  are  modern  qualities  of  mind. 
Through  the  whole  course  of  the  Middle  Ages 
the  world  had  no  conception  of  the  facts  of 
history  and  no  fondness  for  its  spirit.  Those 
were  days  of  romance  ;  the  truthfulness  of 
history  found  no  admirers.  In  our  modern 
sense  of  the  term  historian,  one  may  truth- 
fully say  that  the  Middle  Ages  were  ages  with- 
out a  historian.  The  compulsion  of  truth  had 
never  been  laid  upon  the  historian  of  the  Medi- 
aeval days.  There  could  be  no  history,  and 
there  could  be  no  fiction,  because  the  line 
which  separated  them  was  never  drawn.  The 
chroniclers  from  whom   Holinshed  draws  his 


88   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

interesting  history  name  Noah,  King  Arthur, 
and  King  Lear  in  the  line  of  reqord  of  the 
kings  of  Britain,  as  unconsciously  and  as  hon- 
estly as  they  name  King  Alfred  or  King  John. 
And  the  same  description,  and  indeed  the  same 
picture,  stands  for  the  mythical  king  as  for  the 
actual  king.  There  were  chroniclers  in  plenty 
in  the  Middle  Ages.  There  was  Asser  and 
Gildas  and  William  of  Malmesbury  and  Henry 
of  Huntingdon  and  Nennius  and  Matthew 
Paris  and  Florence  of  Worcester,  who  may 
be  called  historians  ;  and  there  was  Geoffrey  of 
Monmouth  and  Wace  and  Archdeacon  Walter 
and  Layamon  and  Brunne  and  Malory,  who 
may  be  called  translators  of  history  into  poetry 
and  prose.  But  who  among  them  all  so  nar- 
rates history  that  the  line  between  truth  and 
poetry,  between  verity  and  romance,  is  strictly 
drawn?  No  one.  Down  to  Holinshed's  latest 
edition  in  1577,  only  slightly  more  reliable  as 
history  than  the  historical  dramas  of  Shake- 
speare to  which  it  gave  the  inspiration,  the  idea 
of  bondage  to  truth  had  never  gained  posses- 
sion of  a  historian's  mind.  The  notion  of  his- 
tory had  not  entered  into  the  Mediseval  mind. 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  89 

The  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries  gave 
history  to  the  modern  world. 

Three  historians  there  are  in  the  seventeenth 
century:  Camden,  whose  "  Remains  "  were  pub- 
lished in  1605;  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  whose 
history  of  Henry  VIII.  was  published  in  1649; 
Hobbes,  whose  history  of  Britain  was  pub- 
lished in  1679.  But  the  great  historical  writ- 
ers belong  to  the  eighteenth  century.  They 
are  Clarendon,  whose  history  of  the  Great  Re- 
bellion appeared  in  1704;  Hume,  whose  history 
of  Great  Britain  began  to  appear  in  1754;  Rob- 
ertson, whose  history  of  Scotland  appeared  in 
1759;  Goldsmith,  whose  history  of  England 
appeared  in  1771;  and  Gibbon,  whose  "Decline 
and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire"  appeared  in 
1776.  These  historians  taught  the  world  the 
meaning  and  the  import  of  the  word  history, 
and  they  so  prepared  the  minds  of  men  as 
to  make  it  possible  for  a  later  Walter  Scott 
to  put  history  into  a  novel. 

But  they  did  not  make  it  possible  to  put  the 
novel  into  history.  For  that,  also,  the  time 
had  been  ripening.  The  day  of  conviction 
of  the  value  of  individual  human  life  had  first 


90   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

to  come.  The  novel  is  the  story  of  an  experi- 
ence in  human  life  under  stress  of  emotion,  j 
It  demands  interest  in  man  as  man  and  in 
woman  as  woman ;  it  demands  a  sense  of  the 
universality  of  the  interest  in  the  emotion  of 
a  single  individual;  it  demands  a  conviction 
that  if  that  emotion  be  real  and  intense  and 
true,  the  life  is  a  typical  life,  and  its  portrayal 
matter  for  the  concern  of  all  mankind.  But 
these  are  modern  thoughts.  Jefferson  in 
stately  phrase  in  the  Declaration  of  Inde- 
pendence says :  — "  We  hold  this  truth  to  be 
self-evident, — that  all  men  are  created  equal"  ; 
and  for  the  first  time  in  an  utterance  of  equal 
importance  is  the  notion  of  individual  worth, 
the  dignity  of  man  as  man,  asserted.  Yet 
no  less  significantly,  if  less  dogmatically,  did 
Fielding  assert  the  same  proposition  when, 
twenty-seven  years  before  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  was  penned,  he  made  the  world 
take  eager  interest  in  one  commonplace  indi- 
vidual, Tom  Jones.  It  is  an  assertion  of  the 
rights  of  man  when  Sterne  compels  us  to  care 
for  Uncle  Toby  and  for  Tristram  Shandy; 
when  Richardson  makes  the  woes  of  Pamela 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  91 

move  the  hearts  of  a  generation ;  when  Smollett 
finds  nobility  of  character  in  a  Roderick  Ran- 
dom or  a  Humphrey  Clinker ;  when  Goldsmith 
paints  a  universal  type  in  the  unfortunate 
Vicar  of  Wakefield.  These  are  no  heroes  such 
as  Mediaeval  romance  writers  loved  to  paint. 
Tristram  Shandy,  and  Tom  Jones,  and  Hum- 
phrey Clinker,  and  Pamela,  would  have  capti- 
vated few  imaginations  in  the  twilight  days  of 
the  MediiBval  centuries.  Yet  they  are  in  the 
pages  of  Sterne,  and  Smollett,  and  Fielding, 
and  Richardson  by  right  and  not  by  sufferance. 
The  individual,  no  matter  of  what  degree,  now 
has  rights  of  representation  in  the  novel  no 
less  than  in  government.  This  is  a  modern 
utterance.  It  is  the  declaration  of  indepen- 
dence in  fiction,  and  ends  forever  the  exclu- 
sive domination  of   the  Mediaeval  romance. 

These  two  streams  of  influence  made  the 
historical  novel  possible.  It  is  necessarily  an 
evolved  form  ;  for  the  habit  of  truth  in  history 
rises  not  from  its  Mediaeval  grave  till  these 
very  modern  days.  It  is  necessarily  a  modern 
form ;  for  the  notion  of  democracy,  the  most 
modern  of  notions,  is  fundamental  in  the  novel. 


92   EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

The  novel  is  the  epic  of  democracy.  J  It  is  no 
accident  that  the  great  days  of  the  historical 
novel  followed  the  great  days  of  strife  for 
liberty  in  America  and  France.  The  time 
was  ripe ;  the  right  of  the  individual  had 
been  asserted ;  the  nations  had  been  making 
history;  Clarendon,  Hume,  Robertson,  and 
Gibbon  had  made  history  credible;  Fielding, 
Goldsmith,  Miss  Edgeworth,  Miss  Burney  had 
made  the  novel ;  it  was  for  Walter  Scott  to 
make  the  historical  novel. 

We  thus  see  that  two  streams  of  influence  — 
the  sense  of  the  verity  of  history,  and  the  sense 
of  the  dominating  importance  of  the  individual 
made  the  historical  novel  possible.  To  these 
two  influences  came  a  third  —  the  voice  of 
romantic  desire.  It  was  not  a  new  cry,  but 
was  at  once  as  a  voice  from  the  knightly 
wanderers  of  the  Middle  Ages  calling  to  ad- 
venture, and  as  a  fragrance  over  the  useful 
years  from  the  spicy  gardens  of  the  Mediaeval 
days.  New  thoughts  in  the  minds  of  men 
roused  newer  aspirations  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
If  zeal  for  individual  liberty  gave  us  a  Declara- 
tion of  Independence  in  America  and  gave  us 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  93 

a  whole  new  literature  of  individuality  in 
England,  it  gave  also  new  pulsings  in  the 
hearts  of  men  who  write  and  read.  Claren- 
don, Hume,  Robertson,  and  Gibbon  builded 
even  better  than  they  knew.  They  aroused 
the  minds  of  men  to  an  appreciation  of  the 
truth  of  history.  The  new,  quick  intellectual 
life  of  a  political  and  social  awakening  stirred 
the  imaginations  of  men.  New  thought  has 
its  emotional  as  well  as  its  political  demands. 
Poetry  and  romance  were  the  legacies  of  the 
Middle  Ages ;  history  as  actually  lived  by 
men  in  scenes  and  days  made  manifest  was 
the  legacy  of  the  eighteenth  century;  aspira- 
tion for  liberty,  for  individual  living  under 
new  ideals,  was  the  message  of  Goethe,  of 
Jefferson,  of  Tom  Paine,  even  of  Napoleon. 
The  aspiration  touched  literature,  and  we  had 
Byron,  Shelley,  Coleridge,  Keats  in  poetry ;  we 
had  the  romance  of  history  in  prose.  Quicken- 
ings  make  literature.  The  stir  of  life  makes 
new  life.  To  realize  in  one's  own  life  or  in 
one's  own  fancy  the  new  ideals  of  a  newer  day ; 
to  go  forth  into  experience  when  new  life 
urges,  —  this  is  in  quickening  times  the  heart's 


94   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

desire.    As  Chaucer  puts  it  in  his  "  Canterbury 
Tales":  — 

"  Whan  Zephirus  eek  with  his  swete  breeth 
Inspired  hath  in  every  holt  and  heeth 
The  tendre  croppes,  and  the  yonge  sonne 
Hath  in  the  Ram  his  halfe  cours  y-ronne, 
And  smale  fowles  maken  melodye, 
That  slepen  al  the  night  with  open  ye, 
So  pricketh  hem  nature  in  hir  corages ; 
Than  longen  folk  to  goon  on  pilgrimages." 

To  go  on  a  mental  or  spiritual  pilgrimage  is 
one's  first  desire  in  the  springtime  of  one's 
thought.  The  day  of  new  life  is  the  day  of 
romance.  Historical  investigation  had  come 
into  the  world  and  the  heart  of  man  demanded 
the  poetry  and  the  romance  of  history.  For, 
be  it  a  true  aspiration,  or  be  it  merely  a  sug- 
gestion of  desire,  the  heart  of  man  clings  to  the 
belief  that  hovering  over  the  appearance  is  a 
romantic  and  poetic  ideal  of  which  the  appear- 
ance is  but  the  symbol.  The  poetry  of  his- 
tory, the  romance  of  history  —  for  these  men 
sigh  even  when  reading  Clarendon,  Hume,  or 
Robertson.  The  historians  had  made  the 
baseless  romance  of   the   Middle  Ages  hence- 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  95 

forth  impossible,  because  incredible ;  its  re- 
vival in  Walpole's  "  Castle  of  Otranto,"  in 
Beckford's  "  Vathek,"  in  Mrs.  Radcliffe's 
"Mj^steries  of  Udolpho,"  only  made  evident 
that  the  day  of  verity  had  sealed  its  doom. 
The  time  was  ripe  for  a  genius  who  could  put 
into  history  the  poetry  of  history;  who  could 
put  into  veracious  tales  of  the  Mediaeval  days 
the  romance  of  the  Mediseval  time.  That 
genius  was  Walter  Scott. 

We  justly  call  Sir  Walter  Scott  the  father 
of  the  historical  novel,  and  "  Waverley,"  pub- 
lished in  1814,  the  first  typical  example. 
True  enough,  there  were  others,  earlier  in 
time :  "  The  Recess ;  or  a  Tale  of  Other 
Times,"  published  in  1783,  by  Miss  Sophia 
Lee;  "Gondez  the  Monk,"  in  1805,  by 
S.W.  H.  Ireland;  "The  Borderers,"  in  1812; 
"Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  in  1803,  and  "Scot- 
tish Chiefs,"  in  1810,  by  Miss  Jane  Porter; 
"Queen-hoo  Hall,"  left  unfinished,  in  1808,  by 
Joseph  Strutt.  I  have  named  but  a  few  of 
these  early  attempts;  the  unfamiliarity  of  the 
names  proves  the  weakness  of  the  claim  they 
make.      Of  them   all,   the   "Scottish   Chiefs" 


96       EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

and  "Thaddeus  of  Warsaw"  alone  are  really 
claimants ;  these  are  charming  tales,  and  only- 
less  typical  examples  than  "Waverley"  or 
"Quentin  Durward."  But  Scott  is,  after  all, 
the  real  creator  as  well  as  the  master  artist 
in  this  form  of  fiction.  His  spell  is  upon 
most  of  us  still  —  fourscore  years  since  the 
Waverley  novels  were  written.  Indeed,  his- 
tory in  Scotland  is  edited,  or  I  may  say  per- 
sonally conducted,  to  this  day  by  Walter 
Scott. 

One  need  not  here  write  much  of  the  life 
of  Scott,  nor  recount  the  story  of  the  Waver- 
ley novels.  Fit  it  is  that  the  life  of  one  who 
created  that  form  of  novel  which  is  a  blending 
into  unity  of  fact  and  fancy,  of  history  and 
romance,  should  be  himself  a  subject  for  our 
respectful  regard,  and  a  hero  for  our  romantic 
admiration.  Sir  Walter  Scott  was  at  once  a 
canny  Scotch  citizen  and  a  romantic  dreamer. 
The  picture  of  the  excellent  lawyer,  clerk  of 
Sessions,  sheriff  of  Selkirkshire,  working  out 
his  fortune  in  the  ordinary  way  through  Edin- 
burgh to  Abbotst'ord,  is  a  satisfactory  por- 
trait of  a  useful  citizen.     The  picture  of  the 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  97 

lame  and  never  robust  Walter  Scott,  involved 
at  fifty-four  by  another's  mischance  in  enor- 
mous debt,  refusing  to  accept  compromise  or 
lightening  of  the  load,  setting  himself  to  pay 
the  debt  with  his  life's  blood,  is  like  a  hero  of 
romance.  The  soul  of  him  transmutes  the 
body  of  him,  in  that  view  seen,  as  Carlyle 
might  say.  Such  a  blending  of  the  real  and 
the  ideal  was  the  character  of  Walter  Scott. 
It  is  the  basal  characteristic  of  the  Historical 
Romance. 

It  is  somewhat  the  fashion  of  the  day  to 
make  light  of  Walter  Scott's  claims  to  genius. 
Something  of  a  reaction,  perhaps,  this  may  be 
from  the  extravagant  and  indiscriminate  lau- 
dation of  the  earlier  English  critics.  It  is 
rather  the  fashion  now  to  say  that  Walter  Scott 
has  no  capacity  for  passion ;  that  his  style 
is  inflated  ;  that  he  comments  without  reflec- 
tion, discourses  without  meditation ;  that  he 
can  never  give  the  "  expression  of  the  highest 
raptures  of  love,  thought,  and  nature."  Even 
the  admirers  of  Scott  make  some  such  com- 
ment as  this,  while  those  who  are  not  open  in 
admiration  go  much  farther.      Says  a  recent 


98   EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

critic  :  "We  turn,  say,  from  the  purblind 
worshippers  of  Scott  to  Scott  himself,  and 
recognize  that  he  often  wrote  a  style  cum- 
brous and  diffuse ;  that  he  was  tediously 
analytical  where  the  modern  novelist  is  dra- 
matic, and  evolved  his  characters  by  means  of 
long-winded  explanation  and  commentary ; 
that,  except  in  the  case  of  his  lower  class 
personages,  he  made  them  talk  as  seldom  man, 
and  never  woman  talked  ;  that  he  was  tire- 
somely  descriptive  ;  that  on  the  simplest  occa- 
sions he  went  about  half  a  mile  to  express 
a  thought  that  could  be  uttered  in  ten  paces 
across  lots  ;  and  that  he  trusted  his  reader's 
intuitions  so  little  that  he  was  apt  to  rub  in 
his  appeals  to  them.  He  was  probably  right ; 
the  generation  which  he  wrote  for  was  duller 
than  this,  slower  witted,  aesthetically  un- 
trained, and  in  maturity  not  so  apprehensive 
of  an  artistic  intention  as  the  children  of  to- 
day. All  this  is  not  saying  Scott  was 
not  a  great  man;  he  was  a  great  man, 
and  a  very  great  novelist  as  compared 
with  novelists  who  went  before  him.  He 
can    still    amuse    young    people ;     but    they 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  99 

ought  to  be  instructed  how  false  and  how- 
mistaken  he  often  is,  with  his  Mediceval  ideals, 
his  blind  Jacobitism,  his  intense  devotion  to 
aristocracy  and  royalty  ;  his  acquiescence  in 
the  division  of  men  into  noble  and  ignoble, 
patrician  and  plebeian,  sovereign  and  subject, 
as  if  it  were  the  law  of  God  ;  for  all  which, 
indeed,  he  is  not  to  blame  as  he  would  be 
if  he  were  one  of  our  contemporaries."  So 
much  says  this  critic  and  so  much  says  many 
another  critic  of  to-day.  But  all  this  seems 
the  comment  of  the  "  apple  on  the  bough  to 
the  apple  in  the  store-room,"  as  Miss  Phelps 
once  phrased  it,  rather  than  the  final  utter- 
ance of  a  candid  critic.  I  shall  not  try  to 
undertake  the  defence,  for  there  is  no  need. 
It  may  be  that  the  great  writer  of  to-day 
appeals  to  a  subtler  and  scarcer  instinct,  to 
a  more  recently  learned  emotion  than  that 
which  responds  to  the  sort  of  beauty  called 
charming.  It  may  be  a  question,  as  Hardy 
suggests  in  his  "  Return  of  the  Native,"  "  if 
the  exclusive  claim  of  orthodox  beauty  is 
not  approaching  its  last  quarter."  It  may 
be  true  that  to-day  "human  souls  find  them- 


100    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

selves  in  closer  and  closer  harmony  with  ex- 
ternal things  wearing  a  sombre  distastefulness 
to  our  race  when  it  was  young."  All  this  may 
be  true  ;  but  let  us  be  thankful  if  we  still 
continue  young,  and  if  the  Walter  Scotts  of 
the  world  "  can  still  amuse  young  people." 
For  youth  it  is  that  moves  the  world  and 
youth  it  is  that  makes  life  livable.  A  sad  day 
will  it  be  when  the  fiery  spirit  and  the  poetic 
romance  of  Waverley,  Kenilworth,  Quentin 
Durward,  Ivanhoe,  and  Guy  Mannering  fail  to 
find  an  answer  in  our  spirits  and  emotions. 

Nevertheless,  of  the  criticisms  made  upon  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  there  is  one  that  here  concerns 
us.  This  criticism  is  that  Scott  changes  the 
facts  of  history  in  the  interest  of  his  art.  It  is 
true  that  he  does  so  change  them.  He  tells  us 
in  the  "Dedicatory  Epistle"  to  "Ivanhoe"  that 
it  is  "necessary  for  exciting  interest  of  any 
kind  that  the  subject  assumed  should  be,  as  it 
were,  translated  into  the  manners  as  well  as  the 
age  we  live  in."  Scott  does  so  translate.  He 
changes  the  style  of  the  conversation  from  the 
exact  imitation  of  the  older  form  to  a  romantic 
dialect  symbolical  of  rather  than  imitative  of 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  101 

the  actual  form.  He  changes  the  sequence 
of  events  so  that  the  action  in  the  novels  of 
Scott  does  not  necessarily  follow  the  sequence 
of  actual  history.  In  the  novel  of  Kenil- 
worth,  for  example,  the  visit  of  Elizabeth  is 
made  at  a  time  and  under  circumstances  far 
enough  from  the  actual.  Bondage  to  exact 
historical  fact  was  certainly  not  felt  by  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  One  may  go  further  and  point 
out  divergences  from  historical  accuracy  in 
larger  matters  than  dialect  or  chronological 
order.  In  color,  atmosphere,  and  relation,  the 
presentations  of  Scott  rarely  correspond  per- 
fectly to  actual  historical  fact.  It  is  ques- 
tionable, for  example,  whether  the  character 
of  Queen  Elizabeth  is  told  in  "  Kenilworth " 
as  history  would  indicate ;  and  it  is  still  more 
questionable  whether  the  story  of  Amy  Rob- 
sart,  as  told  by  Scott  in  the  same  novel,  can 
be  historically  verified  in  detail.  In  almost 
all  of  Scott's  stories  there  is  an  intentional 
divergence  from  history.  Modern  readers  are, 
I  suspect,  not  in  agreement  as  to  the  effect 
of  this  departure  from  historical  accuracy ; 
the    freedom    of    romance   attracts   one ;    the 


102    EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

atmosphere  of  unreality  offends  another.  I 
do  not  here  make  an  argument  on  one  side 
or  the  other.  I  simply  point  out  that  Scott, 
in  making  departures  from  historical  accu- 
racy, was  fully  aware  that  he  was  making 
them,  and  verily  thought  he  thus  did  service 
to  the  reader.  For  Scott  had  a  perfectly  de- 
fined ideal  of  the  historical  novel.  He  sug- 
gests this  ideal  in  the  prefaces  to  several 
of  the  novels,  particularly  "Ivanhoe"  and 
"  Quentin  Durward "  ;  and  to  a  certain  ex- 
tent he  wrote  in  accordance  with  this  theory. 
His  conception  of  the  ideal  historical  novel 
one  may,  perhaps,  set  forth  in  the  following 
propositions.  To  Scott  the  historical  novel 
was  to  be  a  grouping  of  the  facts  of  history 
so  centralized  as  to  illuminate  a  passion,  plot, 
or  character  ;  the  historical  novel  should  pre- 
sent the  events  of  history  so  focalized  as  to 
form  a  picture.  In  this  view  history  is  cen- 
trifugal ;  the  novel  is  centripetal.  The  thread 
of  history  is  like  a  vine  with  tendrils  stretched 
out,  wrapping  around  unrelated  events  ;  the 
novel  is  an  artificial  construction.  History 
is  a  natural   growth ;    the    plot    of    a   novel 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  103 

is  an  artificial  fabric.  History  is  narrative  ; 
the  novel  should  be  either  histrionic  or  ro- 
mantic. One  essential  difference  exists  be- 
tween history  and  the  historical  novel ;  and 
that  essential  difference  is  unity  in  the  form 
—  a  unity  developed  out  of  the  occurrences 
of  history  or  read  into  the  occurrences  of 
history  by  the  creative  imagination  of  the 
author.  History  then  may  be  said  to  be  re- 
lated to  the  historical  novel  as  the  architect's 
elevation  is  related  to  the  perspective  view  of 
an  artist.  In  the  historical  novel  there  may 
be  foreshortening,  picturesque  grouping,  de- 
sign ;  but  it  is  in  the  interest  of  the  com- 
pleteness of  the  picture.  The  historical  novel 
is  not  mere  history  ;  it  is  rather  magnetized 
history  in  which  every  fact  is  quiveringly 
tendent  toward  some  focal  pole  of  unity. 
With  such  propositions  as  these  one  may,  per- 
haps, set  forth  fairly  the  theory  of  Walter 
Scott :  and  it  may  be  a  wholesome  check 
upon  a  tendency  to  criticise  the  Waverley 
Novels  if,  in  reading  them,  we  keep  this 
theory  in  mind.  "  It  is  a  sure  mark  of  nar- 
rowness and  defective  powers  of  perception," 


104  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

says  Mr.  Brownell,  "to  fail  to  discover  the 
point  of  view  even  of  what  one  disesteems." 
Whether  we  ourselves  like  the  theory  or  not,  it 
was  certainly  honestly  held  by  Scott,  and  one 
need  study  literary  records  but  very  slightly 
to  realize  that  in  its  day  it  was  amply  justi- 
fied in  results.  History  personally  conducted, 
under  the  romantic  guidance  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  gives  a  zest  to  exploration,  gilds  the 
memory  of  days  gone  by,  and  makes  complete 
the  cherished  visions  of  our  early  years. 

Nevertheless,  though  Scott  founded  the  his- 
torical novel,  enunciated  its  most  successful 
theory,  and  is,  perhaps,  still  the  greatest  his- 
torical novelist,  he  is  not  the  best  exponent 
of  his  own  theory.  Attractive  as  is  the  theory 
of  the  romantic  magnetization  of  history,  over- 
hanging it  always  is  the  shadow  of  the  anger 
of  the  great  god  Verity.  Scott  was  almost 
too  ingrainedly  honest  for  his  theory.  There 
are  evidences  of  struggle  when  the  Scotch 
lawyer  becomes  the  romantic  idealist  in  these 
historical  novels.  In  truth,  the  novels  never 
really  desert  fact ;  sometimes  the  story  almost 
painfully   and  regretfully   seems  to    cling   to 


THE  HISTOKICAL  NOVEL  105 

fact.  It  is  the  pathetic  complaint  of  one  of 
our  great  humorists  that,  try  as  he  would,  he 
could  never  escape  from  the  dominion  of  fact. 
He  regrets  that  in  spite  of  his  desires  some 
facts  crept  into  his  history.  "I  cannot  help 
it,"  he  says  sadly,  "the  truth  is,  that  facts 
exude  from  me,  —  like  the  ottar  of  roses  from 
the  otter."  The  humorist  had  no  overwhelm- 
ing reason  for  his  grief.  But  Scott  might 
have  suffered  distress  with  sound  basis,  for 
Scott's  novels  were  never  a  perfect  example 
of  his  own  theory.  The  honor  of  writing  a 
historical  novel  completely  free  from  slavery 
to  history  was  reserved  for  the  work  of  a 
very  different  creator  —  Alexander  Dumas. 
In  point  of  time,  Dumas  ought  to  belong 
to  a  later  generation ;  for  his  first  histori- 
cal romance,  Les  trois  mousquetaires,  was 
not  published  till  1844,  thirty  years  after 
Waverley.  But  Dumas  really  belongs  to  the 
earlier  day.  He  represents  a  perfect  embodi- 
ment of  the  theory  Scott  clearly  enunciated 
and  but  imperfectly  illustrated.  Dumas  did 
not  merely  write  historical  novels  ;  his  whole 
life  is  an  historical  romance.     With  him  the 


106  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

novel  is  more  than  magnetized  history  ;  it  is 
history  completely  polarized.  In  Xe«  trois 
mousquetaires  all  history  is  "fluid  and  pass- 
ing "  ;  facts  are  but  atoms  eddying  in  the 
current  of  the  master's  genius  into  a  stream 
of  unified  portrayal.  Les  trois  mousquetaires 
is  a  flashlight  picture  of  the  year  1628  in 
France.  Those  were  the  days  when  Louis 
XIII.  was  on  the  throne  of  France,  and 
Charles  I.  on  the  throne  of  England.  But  in 
the  novel  of  Dumas,  Louis  is  not  the  ruler 
of  France,  nor  is  the  young  Charles  I.  the 
ruler  of  England;  Richelieu  in  France  and 
Buckingham  in  England  are  the  real  powers 
behind  the  thrones.  The  historical  framework 
of  the  romance  is  the  study  of  plot,  intrigue, 
foil,  and  counterplot  as  incited  by  Richelieu 
and  Buckingham.  One  D'Artagnan,  a  young 
nobleman,  comes  up  to  Paris  from  a  southern 
province  to  enter  the  band  of  musketeers  which 
is  the  grand  guard  of  honor  to  the  sovereign, 
that  he  may  thereby  help  his  fortune  and  do 
service  for  his  king.  In  this  band  of  musket- 
eers three  noblemen  are  then  serving  under 
the   assumed  names   of    Athos,   Porthos,   and 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  107 

Aramis.  The  story  of  the  three  musketeers  is 
the  story  of  the  exploits  of  these  three  men  led 
by  the  youthful,  brave,  courageous,  masterful 
D'Artagnan.  I  need  not  recount  the  familiar 
tale  of  the  splendid  exploits  of  this  little  band 
of  devoted  men.  They  served  the  queen; 
they  served  their  sovereign;  they  foiled  twice 
the  plots  of  Richelieu;  they  almost  saved  the 
life  of  Buckingham.  The  whole  picture  in 
these  wonderful  romances  is  instinct  with  life. 
We  have  vividness  of  description:  we  have 
scenes  relived;  we  have  the  atmosphere  of  the 
time;  we  have  the  life  of  the  time;  we  have 
plentifulness  of  detail.  We  can  see  with  our 
own  eyes  the  cardinal's  palace,  the  house  of 
D'Artagnan,  the  narrow  streets,  the  tumultuous 
life  of  the  day,  the  horses,  the  methods  of 
life,  the  hunting  park  in  England,  the  duels 
by  the  Louvre.  There  is  nothing  lacking 
in  the  picture  to  the  complete  simulation  of 
verity. 

Nevertheless  these  vivid,  life-suggesting  nov- 
els of  Dumas  are  absolutely  independent  of 
historical  truth.  In  Dumas'  story  Bucking- 
ham declares  war  against  France,  simply  that 


108    EVOLUTION   OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

when  concluded  with  a  peace  he  may  have 
reason  for  a  journey  into  France  to  advance 
his  private  friendship  with  the  queen.  In 
Dumas'  story  it  is  Richelieu  who  orders  the 
death  of  Buckingham  ;  and  it  is  Richelieu's 
emissary  who  stirs  the  zeal  of  Felton  to  do 
the  actual  deed  of  assassination.  These 
things  are  not  the  truth  of  history  ;  they 
are  the  motives  of  romance.  Some  of  the 
most  powerful  passages  in  Dumas'  work  are 
absolutely  independent  of  verity.  The  scene 
of  the  bastion  on  Saint-Gervais,  for  example, 
is  realism  in  which  there  is  not  a  particle  of 
truth.  A  Dumas  might  say  it  is  truer  than 
truth  ;  might  say  that  it  is  completely  credible 
simply  because  of,  and  not  in  spite  of,  the 
fact  that  it  is  absolutely  impossible.  This 
is  not  the  truth  of  history ;  it  is  rather 
history  seen  in  a  glass  brightly.  It  is  not 
history  ;  it  is  rather  the  romantic  polarization 
of  history. 

Yet  the  general  impression  is  not  one  of 
falseness.  For  all  this  romantic  unreality  is 
informed  and  saturated  with  an  ideal.  All 
these    events    are    presented   so   as   to    bring 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  109 

out  a  single  definite  picture.  The  picture 
is  the  group  of  D'Artagnan  and  his  three 
friends.  The  ideal  is  that  epic  ideal  of 
loyalty,  courage,  achievement,  of  which  D'Ar- 
tagnan is  the  embodiment.  He  stands  for  un- 
philosophized  achievement,  splendid  daring, 
unfaltering  loyalty,  romantic  devotion,  epic 
heroism.  This  ideal  presentation  is  the  one 
true  thing  in  the  romance.  D'Artagnan  stands 
for  it;  and  Athos,  Porthos,  Aramis,  are  but 
differentiations  of  this  one  ideal.  The  ideal 
has  moved  men.  There  is  a  story  of  a  frontier 
hunter  who  read  a  copy  of  the  "  Three  Mus- 
keteers" left  in  his  cabin  by  some  visitor, 
and  found  for  the  first  time  in  it  the  picture 
of  what  was  to  him  an  ideal  man.  He  saved 
his  money,  left  his  cabin,  and  journeyed  to 
New  York  to  find  in  that  centre  of  civiliza- 
tion such  nobility,  such  a  spirit  of  generosity, 
such  unfaltering  courage.  It  is  said  that  he 
Avent  back  disappointed  to  his  frontier  hut. 
So,  many  men,  in  many  lands,  have  been 
moved  by  this  ideal  of  Dumas.  It  is,  per- 
haps, as  romantic,  incomplete,  and  unreal,  as 
are  some  of  the   details   of  the  plot,  and  as 


110  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

impossible  of  complete  realization.     Neverthe- 
less it  is  a  splendid  expression. 

Yet  it  may  in  these  days  be  asked  if  it 
can  be  possible  that  a  story  which  is  not 
completely  true  can  give  a  true  impression. 
I  do  not  undertake  to  answer  the  question  ; 
but  I  take  an  illustration  from  another  art 
for  an  answer.  I  vividly  remember  a  picture 
of  Napoleon  which  was  the  first  of  those  ro- 
mantic pictures  of  heroes  of  which  so  many 
feeble  imitations  have  since  appeared.  This 
picture  was  supposed  to  be  a  view  of  Na- 
poleon as  he  appeared  when  the  sun  of  Aus- 
terlitz  was  bursting  through  the  fog  of  the 
morning.  One  noticed  that  the  sun  shone 
like  no  sun,  that  the  grass  was  like  no  actual 
grass,  that  the  horse  was  an  incredible  horse, 
that  the  coloring  of  the  picture  was  coloring 
never  seen  on  sea  or  land,  that  the  details 
were  unreal  almost  without  exception.  Never- 
theless, artists  said  that  this  was  a  true  picture. 
If  it  was,  why  was  it  ?  It  was  because  there 
was  one  real  thing  in  the  picture  —  the  face 
of  Napoleon  —  so  real  that  the  unreality  of 
the  other    details    made   but  more   true   this 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  111 

one  reality.  One  may  go  farther  and  say 
that  the  unreality  of  the  details  had  a  pur- 
pose. It  was  not  alone  the  actual  Napoleon 
of  history ;  it  was  Napoleon  the  devastator, 
the  dominator,  that  claimed  the  notice  of  the 
artist's  mind.  And  what  was  the  picture  ? 
It  was  a  symbolic  utterance  as  well  as  a 
portrayal,  for  this  figure  was  not  alone  Napo- 
leon. It  was  as  Death  the  great  devasta- 
tor ;  Death  on  the  pale  horse,  dominating  and 
devastating.  Such  a  presentation  was  the 
historical  romance  as  Dumas  gave  it.  His- 
tory to  him  was  for  the  utterance  of  some 
great  symbolic  thought.  The  Athos,  Porthos, 
Aramis,  D'Artagnan,  of  Dumas  crystallize  into 
an  ideal  of  daring,  courage,  loyalty,  such  as 
has  long  moved  men. 

Such  in  its  earliest  perfection  was  the  his- 
torical romance.  I  say  "  it  was,"  for  the 
day  of  the  romance  passes.  The  great  god 
Verity  has  his  revenges.  The  heavy  hand 
of  Darwin  has  been  laid  on  literature  no  less 
certainly  than  on  science.  There  are  histori- 
cal romances  after  Dumas ;  but  the  historical 
romance  has  no  longer    its   unfettered    free- 


112     EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

dom.  Indeed,  it  is  notable  how  brief  is  the 
list  of  historical  novels  outside  of  those  writ- 
ten by  Scott  and  Dumas.  Almost  on  the 
fingers  of  the  hand  can  we  count  the  impor- 
tant historical  novels.  If  we  name  Bulwer 
with  "  Rienzi "  and  the  "  Last  Days  of  Pom- 
peii " ;  Charles  Kingsley  with  "  Westward 
Ho  !  " ;  Georg  Ebers  with  the  "  Egyptian 
Princess "  and  others  ;  Thackeray  with 
"  Henry  Esmond,"  —  we  have  named  in  these 
four  persons  almost  all  the  earlier  writers  of 
great  note  who  have  written  historical  nov- 
els. Should  we  add  to  this  list  the  narratives 
of  G.  P.  R.  James  and  the  Indian  tales  of 
Cooper,  or  should  we  class  such  novels  as 
"Romola,"  "John  Inglesant,"  and  the  "Clois- 
ter and  the  Hearth"  among  the  historical 
novels,  even  then  our  list  is  but  a  short  one. 
Certainly,  though  short,  this  is  not  an  un- 
important list,  for  the  world  would  be  the 
poorer  to  a  degree  incalculable  if  the  few 
books  we  have  named  were  to  be  stricken 
from  the  list  of  its  literary  possessions.  Yet 
any  one  will  note,  as  he  reads  the  list  of  four 
of  the  principal   examples,  —  the  "Last  Days 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  113 

of  Pompeii,"  "  Westward  Ho  !  "  "  Henry  Es-  j 
mond,"  the  "Egyptian  Princess,"  —  that  the  \ 
day  of  irresponsible  romance  is  gone  when  \ 
these  works  stand  for  the  historical  novel.  Its 
youth  is  past ;  the  duties  of  maturity  are 
upon  it.  Perhaps  of  its  whole  history  we 
may  make  three  stages ;  the  stage  of  roman- 
tic and  dramatic  suggestion  as  illustrated  in  \ 
Scott  and  Dumas ;  the  stage  of  philosophized 
rehabilitation  as  illustrated  in  Bulwer  and 
Ebers;  and  the  stage  of  imaginative  inter- 
pretation, the  latest  and  best,  as  illustrated 
in  Thackeray.  Scott  and  Dumas  subordi- 
nated history  to  romance ;  Bulwer  and  Ebers 
made  brave  effort  to  give  true  history,  phi- 
losophized into  coherency  and  fashioned  into 
the  semblance  of  a  novel;  Thackeray  under- 
took, in  "Henry  Esmond,"  to  give  such  an 
imaginative  interpretation  of  the  significant 
events  of  history  as  should  at  once  make  vivid 
the  actual,  and  suggest  the  ideal,  emotional 
life.  Scott  and  Dumas  made  history  the 
bondmaiden  of  romance ;  Bulwer  and  Ebers 
made  historical  investigation  the  companion  of 
romance;   Thackeray  made  history  the  master 


114    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH   NOVEL 

of  romance.  These  are  the  three  stages  of  the 
evolution  of  the  historical  novel.  In  the  mid- 
dle stage  of  this  evolution  comes  Sir  Edward 
Lytton  Bulwer.  Though  his  best  known  his- 
torical novels,  "  Rienzi "  and  the  "  Last  Days 
of  Pompeii,"  were  actually  written  ten  years 
before  Dumas  began  his  romances,  and  only 
two  years  after  Scott  had  died,  yet  Bulwer 
comes  in  the  middle  stages  of  the  evolution. 
For  there  is  distinct  indication  of  advance 
toward  maturity  in  the  historical  novel  as 
written  by  Bulwer.  "Rienzi"  and  the  "Last 
Days  of  Pompeii "  are  not  mere  romances.  In 
them  the  historical  spirit  distinctly  guides  the 
novelist's  art.  Bulwer,  as  he  himself  states  in 
the  preface  to  "Rienzi,"  aims  at  something 
more  than  the  mere  gathering  of  sufficient  his- 
torical details  to  give  scenery  and  romantic 
atmosphere  to  his  romance.  The  "Last  Days 
of  Pompeii"  is  an  attempt  to  reconstruct  the 
history  of  the  time  completely,  and  to  present 
that  history  in  relation  to  an  individual  life. 
"  Rienzi "  goes  even  farther,  and  gives  a  prob- 
lem of  a  soul  in  conflict  with  its  environment. 
It  is  a  more  modern  scientific  spirit  modifying 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  115 

the  new  historical  novel  when  that  historical 
novel  was  yet  scarcely  two  decades  old.  In 
Bulwer's  novels  the  history  is  accurate ;  there 
is  harmony  between  the  character  and  event; 
there  is  formal  statement  of  motive  and  action ; 
there  is  a  problem  ;  there  is  analysis  of  char- 
acter. To  present  honestly  the  actual  condi- 
tions, to  rehabilitate  the  life  of  the  day,  to 
present  a  life  complete  in  every  detail,  and  sin- 
cerely true  to  the  facts  of  history,  no  matter 
if  fidelity  injure  the  effect  of  the  novel  as  a 
novel — this  is  the  method  of  Bulwer,  of  Ebers, 
of  George  Eliot  in  the  historical  portions  of 
"  Romola,"  of  Charles  Reade  in  the  "  Cloister 
and  the  Hearth."  It  is  the  second  stage  in 
the  progress  of  the  historical  novel. 

But  it  is  in  Thackeray's  "Henry  Esmond" 
that  we  get  the  final  and  the  most  modern 
stage  of  the  historical  novel.  We  may  call 
this  stage  the  imaginative  interpretation  of 
history.  It  is  more  modern  than  the  pains- 
taking philosophical  rehabilitations  of  Bulwer, 
far  more  modern  than  the  dramatic  sketches 
of  Dumas,  or  the  romantic  groupings  of 
Scott.     In  the  first  chapter  of  this  book  I  set 


116     EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

forth  the  theory  that  ;if  one  study  the  develop- 
ment of  fiction  it  will  be  found  to  follow  a 
law ;  the  law  that  the  development  is  from  the 
external,  the  romantic,  the  objective,  to  the 
internal,  the  actual,  the  subjective.  If  this  be 
true,  Dumas  and  Scott  should  be  tJie  historians 
of  the  outer  life,  Thackeray  should  be  the  his- 
torian of  the  inner  life.  And  are  they  not? 
Is  not  the  whole  novel  of  the  "Three  Mus- 
keteers "  lived  in  the  open  air  ?  Can  one  think 
of  Athos,  Porthos,  Aramis,  or  D'Artagnan 
without  a  picture  of  the  external,  of  weap- 
ons, swords,  steeds,  equipment?  The  novel 
is  breezy,  noisy,  jovial,  militant,  outspoken. 
And  in  Scott,  have  we  not  always  scenery, 
costumes,  lakes,  islands,  expeditions,  have  we 
not  tendency  always  outward?  "The  interest 
of  Scott's  novels,"  says  one  writer,  "lies  in  the 
numerous  adventures  —  the  deer  hunting  in 
the  mountains,  the  minstrels,  bards;  in  the 
Maclvors ;  in  the  scene  in  Donald  Bean  Lean's 
Cave :  in  the  singing  of  Flora  Maclvor  on  the 
side  of  the  mountain.  But  the  interest  in 
Thackeray's  novels  lies  in  the  development  of 
the  character,  in  the  life  of  the  spirit,  in  the 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  117 

natural  sorrow,  joy,  and  pain  that  have  been 
and  may  be  again."  Let  one  recall  the  open- 
ing of  Waverley,  where  we  have  the  genea- 
logical tree,  the  description  of  "  Waverley 
honor,"  of  the  coach-and-six,  of  the  attend- 
ants, of  the  externals  of  the  hero's  child- 
hood? And  then  let  him  remember  the 
opening  of  Esmond  —  a  room  in  an  English 
country  house  and  sad  little  Harry  Esmond 
all  alone  with  his  human  longings  for  love 
and  companionship,  awaiting  in  anxious  expec- 
tation the  coming  of  the  new  Lord  Castle- 
wood.  Let  one  recall  the  close  of  Waverley 
with  the  feast  at  which  the  "  dinner  was 
excellent.  Saunderson  attended  in  full  cos- 
tume. The  cellars  were  stocked  with  wine 
which  was  pronounced  superb,  and  it  had  been 
contrived  that  the  Bear  of  the  Fountain,  in 
the  courtyard,  should,  for  that  night  only, 
play  excellent  brandy  punch."  And  then  let 
him  remember  the  close  of  Esmond  :  "  Love 
vincit  omnia;  is  immeasurably  above  all  ambi- 
tion, more  precious  than  wealth,  more  noble 
than  name.  He  knows  not  life  who  knows 
not  that ;  he  hath  not  felt  the  highest  faculty 


118    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

of  the  soul  who  hath  not  enjoyed  it." (^Try- 
it  where  one  may,  the  novel,  of  Scott  and 
Dumas  is  the  novel  of  the  external  life;  the 
novel  of  Thackeray  is  the  novel  of  the  soul. 
Scott  and  Dumas  founded  the  historical  novel ; 
Thackeray  brings  it  to  its  most  complete  form.  J 

Yet  though  I  say  the  historical  novel  is  in 
its  most  modern,  most  developed,  most  com- 
plete form  in  Thackeray,  I  by  no  means  mean 
to  say  that  the  most  evolved  historical  novel 
will  be,  or  is,  the  only  prevalent  form  when 
once  developed.  In  evolution  it  by  no  means 
happens  that  the  earlier  always  vanishes  as 
the  later  appears.  If  it  be  true  that  man 
is  an  evolved  anthropoid  from  a  protoplasm, 
jellyfish,  or  simian,  we  still  may  have  the 
jellyfish,  the  protoplasm,  after  we  have  the 
man.  The  novel  of  Dumas  is  with  us  to-day 
in  many  tales  of  romantic  adventure.  The 
novel  of  Scott  is  with  us  to-day  in  many 
a  story  of  Mediaeval  days  or  of  border  life. 
It  is  with  us,  —  and  may  it  be  always  with 
us,  —  and  yet  it  is  present  with  a  difference. 
There  is  a  modernness  in  the  tales  not  found 
in  Scott  and  Dumas.     They  are  no  longer  irre- 


THE  HISTORICAL  NOVEL  119 

sponsible;  the  hero  has  a  conscience.  They  are 
no  longer  pure  romance ;  one  can  read  them 
with  a  map.  We  have  no  longer  a  complete 
hero;  we  have  a  hero  in  process  of  develop- 
ment. Conscience  has  come  into  the  book, 
geographical  realism  has  come  into  the  book, 
conflict  between  love  and  duty  has  come  in, 
hesitation  and  doubt  have  entered.  A  ro- 
mance of  realism  though  it  be,  in  strongest 
presentation,  it  yet  gives  us,  not  the  hero, 
but  the  man.  The  seriousness  of  modernness 
has  come  upon  the  historical  romance. 

Such  was  the  historical  novel.  It  is  easy 
to  trace  its  history.  It  is  easy  to  point  out 
the  gradual  triumph  of  the  great  god  Ver- 
ity. But  it  is  not  so  easy  to  predict  its 
future.  For  the  Historical  Novel  has  one 
foe,  and  that  foe  is  History.  When  history 
is  completely  written  it  will  be  greater  than 
any  fiction.  It  is  more  than  likely  that  his- 
torical treatment  in  the  distant  future  will  be 
either  pure  romance  or  pure  history. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  ROMANTIC  NOVEL 

There  are  probably  no  words  in  the  vocab- 
ulary of  literary,  artistic,  or  sesthetic  criticism 
more  common  to  our  usage  and  less  exact  of 
apprehension  than  the  words  romance^  roman- 
tic^ romanticism.  To  give  an  exact  definition 
of  what  one  means  by  romanticism,  to  give 
anything  more  than  a  vague  idea  of  the  no- 
tion one  intends  to  convey  when  he  uses  the 
word  romantic,  to  give  a  single,  definite  con- 
ception to  a  reader  by  the  use  of  the  word 
romance,  is  impossible.  No  two  literary  au- 
thorities, no  two  artistic  or  aesthetic  critics, 
are  quite  agreed  in  the  usage  of  either  of 
these  words.  If  I  had  named  this  chapter 
"Romanticism  in  Fiction,"  the  word  roman- 
ticism would  probably  have  suggested  a  no- 
tion to  each  reader  slightly  other  than  that 
which  would  have  been  suggested  to  his  neigh- 
bor. We  clearly  understand  what  one  means 
120 


THE  EOMANTIC  NOVEL  121 

by  the  Historical  Novel,  by  the  Novel  of  Per- 
sonality, by  the  Problem  Novel,  by  the  Novel 
of  Purpose;  but  we  enter  a  region  of  vague- 
ness, of  indefiniteness,  when  we  speak  of  the 
"  Romantic  Novel." 

Yet  the  thing  hinted  at  by  the  terms  ro- 
mance, romantic,  romanticism,  is  certainly  not 
new.  That  which  is  at  the  basis  of  it  is  as  old 
as  history.  The  wandering  of  the  Israelites 
in  the  wilderness,  led  by  the  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night  toward  a 
goal  but  dimly  known,  is  an  early  story  of 
romantic  exploration.  One  may  fancy  it  re- 
peated in  the  wandering  toward  a  revelation 
of  the  heroic  in  life  through  the  desert  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  led  by  the  pillar  of  cloud  by 
day  of  the  German  hero-epic,  and  the  pillar  of 
fire  by  night  of  the  French  chivalric  romances. 
The  legend  of  the  Peri,  the  immortal  and 
innocent  daughters  of  the  fallen  angels,  at 
the  gates  of  Paradise,  pointing  with  wands 
the  pure  in  heart  toward  the  pathway  to 
that  heaven  to  which  they  themselves  are 
forever  to  be  strangers,  is  a  romantic  story ; 
the  legend  of  Lilith,  the  fabled  love  wife  of 


122  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Adam,  is  a  legacy  of  romantic  fancy;  Cain 
driven  from  Eden,  an  endless  wanderer,  is  a 
romantic  type.  The  story  of  Abelard  and 
Heloise  is  a  romantic  tale  of  loyalty  and 
non-fruition ;  the  story  of  Francesca  da  Ri- 
mini is  a  romantic  tale  of  hopeless  and  undy- 
ing love;  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table, 
in  fiction,  are  romantic  figures ;  Savonarola, 
in  history,  is  a  romantic  figure ;  Hamlet, 
scarcely  less  historical,  is  an  embodiment  of 
the  romantic.  The  "Midsummer  Night's 
Dream "  of  Shakespeare,  the  "  Arcadia "  of 
Sidney,  the  Orlando  Furioso  of  Ariosto,  are 
literary  embodiments  of  the  romantic.  If  we 
cannot  define  the  word,  we  can  trace  without 
hesitation  the  existence  of  that  for  which  the 
word  stands  as  a  symbol.  The  romantic  is 
as  old  as  the  historic. 

Old  as  it  is,  however,  the  words  we  use  for 
it — romance,  romantic,  romanticism — are  com- 
paratively modern.  The  *word  romance  looks 
back  no  farther  than  the  Middle  Ages  when 
a  Romance,  or  Roman,  was  a  translation  from 
the  Lingua  Romana,  from  the  Latin  tongue. 
The  Roman  was  that  which  had   come  from 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  123 

afar,  wliich  was  foreign  to  the  language,  the 
custom,  the  habit,  and  the  nature  of  the  day; 
which  was  brought  into  common  life  from 
a  completer,  more  complex,  life.  The  word 
was  first  given  to  the  poems  of  the  Trouba- 
dours and  the  minstrels,  to  acknowledge  the 
fact  that  the  substance  of  these  poems  had 
come  over  from  the  Roman  tongue.  The  po- 
etic romances  of  the  Middle  Ages  were  trans- 
lations of  the  life  of  one  civilization  into  the 
custom  and  the  language  of  another.  So  the 
essence  of  the  word  is  translation.  A  romance 
is  something  transferred,  brought  from  afar. 
A  romance  is  something  foreign  ;  it  is  some- 
thing hinting  of  a  life  better,  completer,  or 
nobler,  than  the  present  life  ;  dimly  known ; 
detached  from,  hoped  for  yet  never  expected 
in,  the  present  life. 

The  essence  of  the  word  then  is  translation. 
But  there  are  translations  and  translations. 
Latin  is  translated  in  our  schools  ;  Enoch  was 
translated  aud  he  walked  with  God.  Some- 
thing of  a  difference  may  separate  two  condi- 
tions, the  essence  of  both  of  which  is  the  one 
notion  of  translation.     So  there  is  every  grade 


124  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

of  romantic  possibility  hinted  at  when  we  use 
the  word  romance;  and  the  word  romanticism 
has  every  shade  of  meaning.  If  we  would 
get  a  definite  idea  of  the  meaning  of  the 
word  romantic,  we  must  trace  it  inexorably 
in  its  usage.  The  first  step  toward  definite- 
ness  for  the  word  will  be  one  of  limitation. 
Fortunately  the  law  of  evolution  holds  also 
with  words ;  their  progress  is  from  the  ex- 
ternal to  the  internal.  If  we  follow  the  his- 
tory of  any  word  we  can  usually  trace  it,  in 
its  progress  through  literary  criticism,  from  an 
external  and  general  to  an  internal  and  spe- 
cific meaning.  We  use  the  word  romantic  in 
at  least  four  senses.  In  its  first,  most  gen- 
eral, most  popular,  sense,  the  romantic  is  the 
opposite  of  the  commonplace.  We  speak  of 
the  romantic  fancies  of  youth ;  of  romantic 
ideals,  as  of  the  notions  of  love  in  a  cottage, 
of  perfect  lovers,  and  of  flawless  men  ;  of 
existence  translated  above  the  sordid  neces- 
sities of  life,  above  the  prose  of  daily  living,  up 
to  the  poetic  regions  where  dwell  eternal  and 
unchanging  youth  and  love.  Of  the  earth, 
earthy  —  that   is  the  prose   thought   of   daily 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  125 

procedure  ;  to  higher  things  soars  the  romantic 
fancy.  In  this  general  popular  sense,  which 
is  the  ordinary,  unscientific  usage  of  current 
allusion,  the  romantic  simply  means  trans- 
ference of  desire,  away  from  commonplace, 
stay-at-home,  ordinary  contentedness,  into  re- 
gions of  rash  attempt  and  vague  longing. 
We  may,  I  think,  take  this  notion  of  depart- 
ure from  the  commonplace,  ordinary  prose  ex- 
periences of  life,  as  the  basis  of  all  the  more 
general  meanings  of  the  words  romantic  and 
romanticism. 

From  this  first  meaning  it  is  but  a  short  leap 
to  the  second,  which  presents  the  romantic  as 
the  opposite  of  the  probable.  To  the  romantic 
tale  of  the  Middle  Ages,  say  we,  belongs  the 
hippogriff  with  the  head  and  claws  of  a  griffin 
and  the  hoofs  and  tail  of  a  horse  ;  belongs  the 
winged  horse  on  which  Astolpho  reaches  the 
Court  of  Prester  John  ;  belongs  the  magic  horn 
which  brings  panic  to  the  foe ;  belongs  the 
charmed  shield  which  makes  the  knight  invisi- 
ble. To  romance  belong  the  fountains  of  love, 
donors  of  friendliness  and  of  hospitality  to 
whomsoever   drinks;    to   romance   belongs   all 


126  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  machinery  of  fancy.  That  which  the  logi- 
cal reason  will  not  sanction,  but  which  the 
desiring  fancy  longs  for,  is  the  customary 
course  of  action  in  the  romance.  Romanticism 
in  this  sense,  scarcely  more  specific  than  the 
first,  is  translation  from  the  probable  into  the 
fancy-haunted  regions  of  the  longed-for. 

But  as  we  come  to  modern  days  we  may  look 
for  more  specific  and  critical  connotations  of 
the  words  romantic  and  romanticism.  Of  such 
we  have  two :  the  romantic  as  opposed  to  the 
literal,  as  illustrated  in  the  romanticism  of 
Novalis  and  Tieck  in  Germany,  and  in  the 
symbolism  of  Rossetti  and  the  Preraphaelites 
in  England;  and  the  romantic  as  opposed  to 
the  formal,  as  illustrated  in  the  romanticists  of 
1830  in  France.  The  first  of  these  later  and 
more  specific  meanings  gives  the  romantic  as 
the  antithesis  of  the  literal.  This  romanticism 
is  a  religious,  literary,  artistic  expression  of 
the  mystic  symbolism  of  the  Mediaeval  days 
of  Heinrich  Suso,  of  Dr.  Tauler,  of  Meister 
Eckhart.  It  is  a  mysticism  in  which  the  sub- 
jective constituent  of  religion  or  of  art  over- 
balances the  objective  ;  in  which  the  symbolic 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  127 

representation  transcends  the  literal.  Of  this 
romanticism  Novalis  and  Tieck  in  Germany 
are  the  exponents  in  the  province  of  art  and 
literature;  Rossetti  and  the  Preraphaelites  in 
England  are  the  exponents  in  the  province  of 
art  and  religion.  "  The  evangel  of  this  roman- 
ticism in  England,"  says  Vaughn,  "  is  the  '  Sar- 
tor Resartus'  of  Carlyle."  Its  recent  apostle 
was  Ruskin.  An  excellent  illustration  in  art 
may  be  found  in  the  pictures  of  Holman 
Hunt,  of  Burne-Jones,  of  William  Blake,  of 
Dante  Gabriel  Rossetti ;  in  the  "  Light  of  the 
World"  at  Keble  College  in  Oxford,  and  the 
"Annunciation"  at  the  National  Gallery  in 
London;  or  in  the  Blake  pictures  at  the  Art 
Museum  in  Boston.  The  fundamental  idea  of 
this  romanticism  is  a  translation  of  the  literal 
into  a  symbolism  whose  esoteric  meaning  is 
wholly  revealed  only  to  those  whose  intensity 
of  spiritual  life  permits  them  to  see  beyond  the 
veil.  The  method  of  this  romanticism  is  the 
method  of  saturation  of  the  prosaic  subject 
with  essence  of  the  ideal.  It  is  a  gospel  of 
symbols.  The  typical  symbol  of  German  roman- 
ticists was  the  blue  flower  of  Novalis.     This 


128    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

blue  flower  was  the  symbol  of  the  poet's  desire. 
For  it  poets  might  long ;  ot  it  the  fragrance 
might,  in  most  supreme  moments,  be  inhaled ; 
of  its  presence  the  rapture  might  be,  sometimes, 
dimly  known.  But  in  this  world  it  could  never 
be  found;  it  was  the  absolute  ideal,  ever  be- 
yond reach.  Though  if  this  blue  flower,  this 
symbol  of  the  ideal,  should  be  discovered,  the 
line  between  this  world  and  the  next  would 
vanish,  and  all  things  would  come  into  the 
clearness  of  absolute  existence. 

Such  are  two  of  the  most  common  connota- 
tions of  meaning  of  the  general  word  romantic, 
and  one  of  the  rather  more  specific  denotations 
of  the  word  romanticism  in  art,  religion,  and 
certain  fields  of  literature.  In  the  special 
field  of  literary  criticism,  however,  one  can  go 
farther  and  obtain  a  fourth  and  still  more 
definite  sense  in  which  one  may  properly  use 
the  words  romantic  and  romanticism.  In  such 
usage,  which  is  common  in  literary  criticism 
at  the  present  time,  romanticism  is  opposed  to 
formalism,  and  the  romantic  is  the  method 
and  the  attitude  most  contrary  to  the  classi- 
cal.    A  purely  classical  work  is  a  portrayal 


THE  BOM  ANTIC   NOVEL  129 

strictly  in  consonance  with  a  law  of  form, 
motive,  or  relation.  A  classical  attitude  of 
mind  is  an  attitude  of  acceptance  of  laws  of 
form,  motive,  or  relation.  Behind  the  classi- 
cal work  seems  to  stand  a  fixed  ideal,  a  rec- 
ognized ideal  of  proportion,  grace,  fitness, 
harmony.  The  acceptance  of  such  an  ideal 
as  a  guide  indicates  a  classical  spirit ;  of  it 
the  outward  indication  is  order,  harmony,  sys- 
tem, light.  The  classical  drama  thus  gives 
presentations  in  rigid,  regular  form,  under 
bondage  to  the  Unities,  under  subjection  to 
the  canons  of  an  authority,  such  as  Aristotle. 
Under  such  a  definition  the  "Alchemist"  of 
Ben  Jonson  is  a  classical  drama,  the  "  Mid- 
summer Night's  Dream"  of  Shakespeare  is 
a  romantic  drama.  So  a  classical  work  of 
architecture  is  a  work  whose  proportions  can 
be  reduced  to  a  complete  formula  ;  a  classical 
drama  is  such  a  drama  as  will  follow  precepts 
of  ancient  masters,  themselves  the  servants  of 
an  accepted  and  complete  tradition.  Classi- 
cism is  born  of  law ;  it  is  nourished  by  author- 
ity ;  its  ideals  are  known.  The  classicist  is 
the   conservative  in  literature.     In  opposition 


130    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH   NOVEL 

to  all  this,  the  cardinal  notion  of  romanticism 
is  not  acceptance  but  rejection.  Romanticism 
rejects  the  literal  and  seeks  the  allegorical ; 
it  leaves  the  seen  and  searches  the  unseen ; 
it  casts  aside  the  evident  and  seeks  a  symbol 
of  the  deeper  thought.  Romanticism  is  born 
of  dissatisfaction  with  the  canons  of  author- 
ity ;  it  constantly  and  consciously  searches 
for  a  new  law  in  place  of  that  which  has 
ruled.  So,  to  the  classicist,  the  romantic  work 
lacks  proportion,  harmony,  finish.  "  Shaks- 
peer  wanted  arte,"  said  Ben  Jonson,  because 
Shakespeare  did  not  frame  his  dramas  in  ac- 
cordance with  the  precepts  of  dramatic  law. 
I  Classicism  is  cultured  acceptance ;  romanti- 
cism is  unschooled  desire. 

Hence  it  comes  about  that  romantic  works 
develop  certain  external  characteristics  by 
virtue  of  this  departure  from  the  formal, 
under  pressure  of  desire.  Reaction,  pictu- 
resqueness,  subjectivity,  say  the  writers  of 
many  admirable  books,  in  one  or  another 
form  of  phrase  and  grouping,  are  romantic 
qualities.  It  is  natural  that  these,  among 
others,  should   be  the  external  characteristics 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  131 

of  romantic  expression.  The  essence  of  classi- 
cism is  the  subjection  of  the  individual  artist  to 
the  mandates  of  an  artistic  law,  the  subjection 
of  the  individual  citizen  to  the  mandates  of  an 
established  society.  The  essence  of  romanti- 
cism is  the  freedom  of  the  individual ;  and 
subjectivity  becomes  a  characteristic  of  certain 
romantic  works.  And  again,  nature,  in  the 
classical  view,  is  the  orderliness  of  the  external 
world  in  its  most  cultivated  form.  But  nature, 
as  the  unschooled  desire  would  seek  it,  is  the 
picturesqueness  of  exceptional  association ; 
and  so  picturesqueness  becomes  a  character- 
istic of  certain  romantic  works.  The  method 
of  romanticism  is  a  departure  from  the  con- 
temporaneous ;  and  hence  we  have  such  a 
searching  of  the  past  as  hints  at  something 
very  like  reaction.  It  is  departure,  transla- 
tion, desire,  that  marks  the  romantic  work. 
Romanticism  departs,  from  the  ordinary,  from 
the  accepted,  from  the  contemporaneous,  from 
the  probable,  from  the  reasonable.  "  Realism," 
says  one  writer,  "gives  us  the  pleasure  of 
recognition  ;  classicism  the  pleasure  of  satis-  \ 
faction;  romanticism  the  pleasure  of  surprise.'^ 


132    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

And  yet  it  does  more,  for  he  is  but  a  super- 
ficial observer  who  does  not  find  beneath 
these  external  characteristics  of  romanticism 
a  deeper  utterance  than  a  mere  cry  of  rest- 
less negation.  The  greater  romantic  works  of 
the  world,  the  greater  periods  of  romanticism, 
speak  of  more  than  mere  restlessness  and 
vague  longing  for  novelty.  First  the  external 
of  war  and  strife,  and  then  the  mind's  desire. 
First  the  Sturm  und  Drang^  then  romanticism 
—  this  is  the  historical  sequence.  It  is  out  of 
the  civil  strife  of  Florence  that  is  born  the 
immortal  work  of  Dante ;  it  is  after  the  Refor- 
mation and  the  death  struggle  of  two  religions 
in  England  that  we  get  the  "Arcadia,"  that 
we  get  Spenser,  and  Shakespeare ;  it  is  after 
the  wars  in  Germany  that  we  get  Schlegel, 
Tieck,  Novalis,  and  Goethe ;  it  is  after  the 
French  Revolution  and  Napoleon  that  we  get 
Alfred  de  Musset,  Lamartine,  Victor  Hugo. 
Romanticism  is  more  than  a  mere  external. 
It  is  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness.  A 
romantic  work  is  a  record  of  exploration  in  the 
realm  of  the  material,  the  mental,  or  the  spirit- 
ual, in  search  of  an  ideal.     The  true  romance 


THE  ROMANTIC  NOVEL  133 

is  a  suggestion  and  a  prophecy.  The  wander- 
ing of  the  three  wise  men  of  old,  journeying 
under  the  guidance  of  a  point  of  brightness 
in  the  Eastern  sky,  was  a  journey  of  high 
romance  in  that  it  prophesied  the  revelation 
which  was  to  follow.  So  every  romance  is  a 
wandering  toward  a  dim  ideal.  Romanticism 
in  the  Mediaeval  tales  searches  the  records  of 
chivalry  in  quest  of  an  ideal  of  heroism.  Ro- 
manticism in  the  "Arcadia"  searches  the  dimly 
known  in  quest  of  a  possible  new  ideal  of  love; 
romanticism  in  the  "  Sorrows  of  Werther " 
searches  the  human  mind  in  quest  of  a  new 
ideal  of  individuality;  romanticism  in  "Notre 
Dame"  searches  the  tumultuous  past  in  quest 
of  a  possible  regenerator  of  society.  Romanti- 
cism in  its  noblest  expression  is  a  departure 
from  law,  from  fact,  from  harmony,  from  per- 
spective, in  quest  of  a  new  law,  of  a  new 
fact,  a  new  harmony,  a  new  perspective.  In 
its  best  exemplification  a  romantic  creation  is 
an  altar  to  an  Unknown  God. 

No  doubt  all  this  may  seem  to  be  what  Ba- 
con would  call  a  "  high  speech  "  when  applied 
to  any  existing  exemplification  of  romanticism 


134  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

in  fiction  ;  and  truly  it  is  too  "  high  "  a  speech 
to  apply  to  any  novel.  Romanticism  has  never 
been  in  best  exemplification  in  the  novel.  It 
is  only  in  poetry,  in  art,  in  religious  expression, 
in  music,  that  the  noblest  virtues  of  romanti- 
cism can  be  embodied.  The  completeness  of 
the  novel  form  is  a  barrier  to  the  vagrant 
fancy.  The  novel  is  a  record  of  life,  of  human 
life,  under  stress  of  emotion,  —  of  human  lives 
influenced  by,  and  influencing,  other  human 
lives  through  emotion.  The  novel  demands 
actual  experience,  human  relations,  as  its  basis. 
But  the  romance  proper  is  the  wandering  of  a 
solitary  soul,  apart  and  afar  from  associated 
life,  away  from  influences,  into  the  regions  of 
poetry  and  fancy.  A  completely  historical 
novel  seemed  impossible  because  of  the  limita- 
tions which  history  placed  upon  the  novel ;  in 
its  turn  a  completely  romantic  novel  seems 
impossible  because  of  the  limitations  which  the 
novel-form  places  upon  the  romantic  fancy. 
It  is  a  wandering  within  a  limited  space  that 
we  must  get  if  we  are  to  have  a  coherent  novel 
of  romantic  exploration.  The  novel  is  stable 
and  concrete ;  the  romantic  is  fluid  and  pass- 


THE  EOMANTIC   NOVEL  135 

ing.  High  religious  expression,  as  in  the 
symbolism  of  religious  mystics,  high  artistic 
expression,  one  may  find  as  the  natural  lan- 
guage of  the  romanticist ;  but  such  expression 
as  we  find  in  fiction  is  rarely  a  high  exempli- 
fication. The  romantic  mood  is  too  vague  and 
dreamy  to  find  fit  vehicle  in  so  work-a-day  a 
form  as  the  novel ;  the  romantic  is  essentially 
a  poetic  rather  than  a  prose  attitude.  So, 
when  we  study  characteristic  romantic  novels, 
such  as,  "  The  Sorrows  of  Werther "  of 
Goethe,  and  the  Notre  Dame  of  Victor  Hugo, 
we  find  abundant  opportunity  to  question 
their  excellence,  considered  merely  as  novels. 
They  have  plenty  of  faults.  Yet  it  is  a  well- 
settled  canon  in  criticism  that  the  greatest 
literary  works,  like  the  greatest  lives,  are  not 
those  which  have  the  fewest  faults,  but  those 
which  have  the  greatest  number  of  quali- 
ties. The  works  have  the  qualities  of  the 
romantic,  and,  therefore,  are  fit  illustrations. 
Moreover,  the  romantic  belongs,  by  historical 
association,  to  fiction ;  it  had  right  of  absolute 
possession  for  fifteen  hundred  years,  and  is  still 
in  evidence  to-day.     We  may,  therefore,  prop- 


136  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

erly   make    a  special   study   of    the  romantic 
novel. 

Of  this  romantic  novel  we  may  distinguish 
three  stages.  These  stages  are :  the  romantic 
in  fiction,  as  represented  by  the  Greek  and 
Mediaeval  tales  of  external  life,  which  may 
be  called  the  romances  of  physical  adven- 
ture; the  romantic  in  fiction,  as  represented 
in  "Vathek,"  the  "Castle  of  Otranto,"  and  the 
"Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  which  may  be  termed 
the  romances  of  mental  adventure ;  the  roman- 
tic in  fiction  as  represented  in  the  "  Sorrows 
of  Werther,"  the  "Notre  Dame,"  and  the 
"  Wilhelm  Meister,"  which  may  be  named  the 
romances  of  spiritual  adventure.  The  first 
stage,  shown  in  romances  of  physical  adven- 
ture, goes  back  to  the  Greek  tale,  which  was 
a  record  of  the  travels,  adventures  and  ac- 
complishments of  a  hero  somewhat  agitated  by 
emotional  desire.  At  the  basis  of  the  Greek 
romance  was  a  love  motive,  scarcely  adequate 
to  the  demands  upon  it,  much  assisted  by  a 
traveller's  motive  of  restless  curiosity.  In  the 
Middle  Age  fiction  a  motive  of  chivalric  hero- 
ism comes  in ;  the  story  of  adventure  is  under 


THE   ROMANTIC   NOVEL  137 

guidance  of  an  ideal.  There  is  little  enough 
coherence  in  the  story  as  a  story;  but  the 
ideal  of  the  knight  fighting  for  his  love  never 
vanishes.  It  is  customary  to  divide  these  ro- 
mances into  groups.  In  such  division,  the  first 
group  would  be  the  Greek  novel,  which  is  rep- 
resented for  us  in  a  few  tales  of  adventure,  all 
of  them  antedating  the  sixth  century  ;  the  sec- 
ond group  would  be  the  Mediaeval  romances  of 
chivalry  and  adventure ;  the  third  group  would 
be  the  pastoral  fictions  of  Italy  and  Spain ;  and 
the  fourth  group  would  be  the  heroic  and  the 
mock-heroic  romances  of  the  latest  days  of 
Mediaeval  time.  It  is  the  history  of  fiction, 
rather  than  the  history  of  the  novel,  that  we 
are  considering  when  we  study  these  romances. 
They  are  fine  tales  of  external  adventure,  ante- 
dating that  more  subjective,  but  completer 
form  of   fiction,  which  we  call  the  novel. 

The  second  stage  of  romanticism  in  fiction 
was  the  fin  de  siecle  novel  in  England  one 
hundred  years  ago.  It  is  the  romanticism  of 
mental  excitement.  We  have  gone  from  the 
mere  physical  explorations  of  the  Middle  Age 
romance  when  we  reach  these  novels.     True 


138  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

enough  it  is  that  mysteries,  strange  experiences, 
enchanted  groves,  haunted  castles  —  all  such 
externals  of  horror  and  interest  —  are  pre- 
sented in  the  tale,  and  are  its  special  machin- 
ery; but  these  externals  are  present  only  to 
arouse  the  mind.  It  is  not  merely  the  external 
supernatural,  it  is  the  supernatural  affecting  or 
influencing  the  human  mind  that  is  presented. 
These  works  are  really  novels  because  in  each 
is  presented  the  experiences  of  a  human  soul 
in  imaginary  contact  with  the  mysterious 
supernatural.  From  the  "Castle  of  Otranto," 
one  of  the  earliest  of  the  class  (1764),  to 
"The  Italian"  and  "The  Mysteries  of  Udol- 
pho,"  thirty  years  after,  almost  the  latest  of 
the  greater  works  of  this  special  sort,  we  have 
really  but  one  motive;  that  motive  is  the  at- 
tempt of  the  human  mind  to  solve  some  mystery 
of  life  beyond  all  human  experience.  Crude 
enough  now  the  machinery  of  these  novels  seems 
to  us.  We  recall  how  easily  Miss  Austen  satir- 
izes it  all  in  "Northanger  Abbey"  in  her 
charming  story  of  the  timorous  maiden,  quiver- 
ing with  fear  over  fancied  horrors  hidden  in  a 
harmless,  unused  section  of  the  Abbey.     It  is 


THE  KOMANTIO   NOVEL  139 

easy  for  any  of  us  now  to  find  these  marvels 
food  rather  for  mirth  than  for  reflection.  The 
hero,  imprisoned  in  a  monstrous  helmet  in  the 
Castle  of  Otranto  ;  the  gigantic  hand  in  armor 
seen  on  the  uppermost  banister  of  the  staircase 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  winter  gloaming ;  the 
swords,  the  skeletons,  the  groans;  the  statue 
which  sweat  great  drops  of  blood,  — these  things 
do  not  alarm  us  now.  In  Beckford's  "  Vathek," 
the  mute,  one-eyed  negresses  pouring  oil  on 
heaps  of  innocent  victims,  sacrificed  to  the  sub- 
terranean gods,  do  not  awaken  emotion ;  even  a 
masterly  though  physical  picture  of  hell  in  this 
same  "  Vathek  "  languidly  moves  us.  And  with 
Mrs.  Radcliffe  one  must  get  into  very  close 
sympathy,  or  the  unreality  of  the  means  will 
hinder  rather  than  help  emotion.  If  so  sym- 
pathizing, however,  one  can  find  interest  in 
the  study  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe's  latest  works, 
"The  Italian,"  the  "Romance  of  the  Forest," 
and  the  "Mysteries  of  Udolpho."  Of  these 
the  first  named  is  the  finest  and  the  last 
the  best  known.  The  method  of  one  is  the 
method  of  all.  There  is  a  maiden  with  azure 
eyes,   a    lithe    and  willowy   form,   and    locks 


140     EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

whose  auburn  radiance  rivals  the  glint  of 
sunlight  on  the  mountain  tops  in  the  last 
glow  of  evening.  The  maiden  is  confined  in 
a  castle  on  some  inaccessible,  rocky  shore. 
The  shadow  of  a  crime,  committed  by  some 
dead  ancestor,  hangs  over  her.  Mysterious 
visitants  haunt  her  prison.  She  finds  a  sub- 
terranean passage  to  a  gloomy  abbey,  where 
winding  corridors  lead  on  to  chambers 
peopled  thick  with  horrors.  Panels  slide  in 
the  casement ;  trap-doors  open  in  the  floor  ; 
living  men  step  from  pictures  on  the  walls  ; 
behind  the  curtain  is  a  skeleton  with  a  rusty 
dagger  by  its  side.  Blood-stained  papers  are 
found  lying  in  a  massive  oaken  chest,  and 
the  clammy  hands  of  dead  men  touch  the 
maiden,  as  by  the  light  of  a  flickering,  just- 
expiring  candle  she  reads  the  record  of  the 
long  hid  crimes.  All  this  is  the  machinery 
of  terror.  It  is  the  terror  of  the  human  mind 
probing  the  mysterious  unknown.  It  is  later 
than  the  Mediaeval  romantic  motive  in  that  it 
is  of  the  mind  rather  than  of  the  body  that 
we  have  the  record.  It  is  the  romantic  in 
that  it  is  a  departure  from   the   contempora- 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  141 

neous,  from  the  accepted,  from  the  probable, 
in  search  of  a  new  emotion.  This  novel  of 
wild  romance  is  in  some  sense  a  prophecy  in 
that  it  foreshadows  the  novel  of  problem. 
Absurd  we  call  it  now  after  one  hundred 
years  of  wise  instruction,  but  it  was  a  fit 
forerunner  of  the  investigating,  introspective 
nineteenth  century.  It  was  the  early  novel 
of  the  unseen  world.  To  the  classicist  the 
world  is  a  scheme  ;  to  the  romanticist  the 
world  is  a  mystery.  It  is,  perhaps,  due  to 
these  novels  that  since  their  day  classicism 
in  fiction  has  never  held  exclusive  sway. 

Quite  contemporaneous  with  this  remark- 
able expression  in  England,  though  in  another 
country,  was  the  third  stage  of  the  romantic 
in  fiction,  which  may  be  called  the  romanticism 
of  spiritual  life.  It  is  first  found  in  connec- 
tion with  the  great  romantic  movement  of  the 
last  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  Ger- 
many. For  our  purpose  I  take,  as  a  good 
illustration  of  it,  Goethe's  Die  Leiden  des 
jungen  Werther  (1774).  I  choose  this  novel 
because  it  is  an  early  and  typical  example  in 
German  fiction,  and  properly   belongs,  there- 


142    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

fore,  to  the  illustration  of  romanticism,  as 
exemplified  in  the  novel.  But  if  this  chap- 
ter dealt  with  the  whole  topic  of  romanti- 
cism, and  if  I  were  now  to  give  account  of 
the  romantic  movement  in  Germany  in  its 
entirety,  no  doubt  I  should  choose  another 
name  than  that  of  Goethe  as  exemplar.  Goethe 
was  by  no  means  a  typical  representative  of 
the  romantic  movement.  He  was  too  great 
a  genius  to  be  for  any  lengthened  period  a 
representative  of  any  single  movement.  He 
was  of  all  movements  ;  to  him  all  the  literary 
stir  of  his  time  and  country  may  be  said  to 
look  for  inspiration  and  suggestion.  He  was 
of  the  romantic  movement  in  his  youth. 
Indeed,  he  may  be  said  to  have  antedated 
it,  and  later  to  have  outlived  it,  before,  in 
the  minds  of  other  men  in  Germany,  it  had 
come  to  birth.  Goethe's  first  romantic  novel 
was  written  in  1774,  when  Coleridge  and 
Schlegel,  and  Tieck,  and  Novalis  were  babies 
in  the  cradle,  the  oldest  of  them  not  yet 
two  years  old.  When,  twenty-one  years  later 
the  apostles  of  romanticism  found  voice, 
Goethe    wrote    Wilhelm    Meister^s    Lehrjahre, 


THE  KOMANTIC  NOVEL  143 

SO  far  in  advance  of  the  views  of  these 
apostles  that  they  clamored  against  Goethe  as 
an  apostate.  And  when  twenty -six  years  later 
still  (1821)  the  voices  of  most  of  the  apos- 
tles of  romanticism  in  Germany  were  hushed 
in  eternal  silence,  Goethe  wrote  Wilhelm  Meis- 
ter'a  Wanderjahre,  and  again  a  master  hand 
touched  into  continued  life  the  dying  impulse. 
In  these  three  works,  —  "Werther,"  the  first, 
and  the  second  "  Wilhelm,"  —  Goethe  sums  up 
the  beginning,  the  continuance,  the  completion 
of  romantic  thought  in  Germany.  In  them  he 
creates  two  influencing  and  eternal  person- 
ages—  Werther  the  emotional  idealist,  Wil- 
helm Meister  the  seeker  and  wanderer. 

When  Goethe  wrote  "  Werther "  he  was 
a  youth  of  twenty-five  years,  in  the  first 
flush  of  early  emotion.  His  boyhood  to  his 
sixteenth  year  had  been  spent  at  his  home 
in  Frankfort ;  he  then  had  three  intensely 
stirring  years  at  the  University  of  Leipzig  ; 
two  waiting  years  at  home  recovering  from  ill- 
ness ;  one  final  and  arousing  university  year  at 
Strassburg ;  then  three  years  of  early  achieve- 
ment in  law  and  literature  at  Frankfort  and 


144    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

at  Wetzlar.  He  had  come  under  French  in- 
fluence at  Leipzig,  and  under  the  influence  of 
Herder,  Rousseau,  and  the  men  of  Sturm  und 
Drang  at  Strassburg.  He  had  loved  twice; 
once  had  lost;  and  once  had  rejected  a  con- 
tinuance. In  speaking  of  so  great  and  so 
original  a  genius  as  Goethe,  one  must  use 
such  terms  as  influences  and  impulses  with 
less  definiteness  of  insistence  than  in  appli- 
cation to  lesser  men.  Yet  one  may  fairly 
say  that  four  influences  made  Werther  pos- 
sible. One  was  the  influence  of  that  group 
of  men  whom  collectively  we  take  to  illustrate 
the  early  Storm  and  Stress.  Klopstock,  in 
1748,  had  published  his  "  Messiah  " ;  Wieland, 
in  1762,  had  translated  Shakespeare ;  Herder 
was  the  bosom  friend  of  Goethe.  The  second 
impulse  was  that  of  Rousseau,  exerted  indi- 
rectly through  his  friend  and  admirer.  Herder ; 
exerted  directly  and  powerfully  through  his 
Nouvelle  Helo'ise^  published  fourteen  years  be- 
fore the  "Sorrows  of  Werther."  The  third 
impulse  was  the  opposition  and  applause  which 
Goethe's  own  Gotz  von  BerlicTiingen  had 
aroused  the  previous  year;  in  the  fierce  days 


THE  ROMANTIC  NOVEL  145 

of  youth  applause  and  opposition  are  incentives 
of  almost  equal  power.  And  the  fourth  impulse 
was  the  love  of  Goethe  for  Charlotte  Buff,  be- 
trothed to  Kastner,  and  so  resigned  by  Goethe. 
The  story  of  Werther,  told  in  the  letters  of 
the  hero,  which  record  his  life  and  loves,  his 
dreams,  his  aspirations,  and  his  resignation, 
is  familiar  enough,  for  the  work  is  a  classic 
to-day  in  a  dozen  languages.  Werther,  per- 
sisting in  his  search  for  an  ideal  emotional  life, 
became  the  model  of  dreamers  and  lovers.  The 
romance  is  a  record  of  the  pilgrimage  of  a  soul 
searching  for  ideal  conditions  of  emotional  life. 
It  is  not  gratified  love  that  Werther  longs  for  ; 
it  is  ideal  love.  It  is  partly  that,  since  he 
must  love  Charlotte,  Charlotte  should  be  Char- 
lotte, that  makes  the  hopelessness  of  the  situa- 
tion. When  Thackeray,  in  his  clever  little 
ballad,  tells  how  Charlotte, 

"  When  she  saw  the  body 
Borne  before  her  on  a  shutter, 
Like  a  well-conducted  person, 
Went  on  cutting  bread  and  butter," 

he  sets  forth  the  eternal  pathos  of  impossible 
conditions.     Werther  is  the  type  of  a  wanderer 


146  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

seeking  an  ideal  love  ;  Charlotte  is  the  type  of 
contentedness  and  placid  complacency.  There 
must  in  any  case  be  either  the  eternal  longing 
or  the  acceptance  of  eternal  incompleteness. 
So  Werther  stands  for  the  Weltschmerz^  the 
world-sadness  of  incomplete  relation.  It  is 
not  happiness  that  Werther  longs  for ;  it  is  the 
absoluteness  of  ideal  love.  With  quenchless 
yearning  he  dreams,  and  longs  that  awaking 
in  the  likeness  of  perfection  he  shall  still  be 
unsatisfied.  Three  ideals  stand  before  him :  an 
ideal  of  the  duty  one  owes  to  one's  nature ; 
an  ideal  of  the  duty  one  owes  to  one's 
future ;  an  ideal  of  the  duty  one  owes  to 
one's  emotions.  Werther  dies  rather  than 
forfeit  his  ideals.  He  owes  it  to  himself  to 
be  complete  in  duty,  complete  in  personality, 
complete  in  happiness  of  relation;  or  failing 
that,  to  wander  with  the  Sirenos,  the  Liliths, 
the  Peris,  the  Hamlets,  and  the  Francesca  da 
Riminis  forever  toward  a  greater  incomplete- 
ness somewhere  in  the  fathomless  beyond. 

We  have  gone  on  to  a  much  later  stage  of 
romantic  expression  when  we  come,  twenty 
years  later,  to  the  "Wilhelm  Meister."     Wil- 


THE  ROMANTIC  NOVEL  147 

helm  Meister  is  more  than  a  romantic  wanderer. 
He  goes  far  on  the  road  to  attainment  of  the 
notion  of  his  ideal,  though  never  shall  he  reach 
it,  and  only  slightly  will  he  strive  to  put  it 
in  the  embodiment  of  external  action.  It 
is  a  later  expression  than  romanticism  when 
the  wanderer  becomes  the  reformer.  There 
is  an  essential  difference  in  the  two  types. 
The  wanderer  seeks  an  unknown  ideal;  the 
reformer  seeks  to  embody  a  known  ideal. 
Savonarola  in  failure,  seeking  hopelessly  an 
ideal  of  religion,  of  faith,  of  action,  is  a  ro- 
mantic figure;  Martin  Luther  in  successful, 
definite  action,  though  heroic,  is  not  romantic. 
The  life  of  every  romanticist  is  a  record  of 
exploration  in  search  of  an  ideal;  the  life  of 
every  reformer  is  an  endeavor  to  embody 
a  known  ideal.  The  real  romanticists,  the 
seekers,  such  as  Tieck  and  Novalis,  the  Ham- 
lets, the  Werthers,  wander  to  the  end.  What 
the  world  calls  greater  men,  the  Goethes, 
the  Victor  Hugos,  the  Ruskins,  in  their  later 
years,  finding  some  ideal,  strive  for  its  em- 
bodiment. So  Wilhelm  Meister,  attaining  the 
notion   of   a  complete  individual  life  through 


'  148  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

abnegation,  for  the  sake  of  the  completer  lives 
of  other  men,  marks  a  later  stage  of  the 
romantic  novel.  The  story  of  Werther  is 
the  record  of  a  hopeless  pilgrimage  in  search 
of  an  ideal  of  individuality ;  the  story  of 
Wilhelm  Meister  is  the  record  of  a  hopeful 
pilgrimage  in  search  of  a  method  of  self- 
development.  )  Werther  remains  to  the  end 
a  mere  wanderer  ;  Wilhelm  Meister  gains  his 
self-completeness  through  abnegation.  It  is 
in  some  sense  a  problem  and  an  answer. 
Goethe  the  romantic  dreamer  has  become 
Goethe  the  philosopher. 

Yet,  perhaps,  a  better  illustration  of  the 
growth  of  the  wanderer-thought  to  the  hero- 
thought  is  in  the  Notre  Dame  de  Paris  of  Vic- 
tor Hugo,  the  outcome  of  the  French  romantic 
movement  of  1830,  as  contrasted  with  Les 
Miserables,  of  thirty  years  later.  It  would 
be  pleasant  to  linger  in  the  presentation  of 
the  poetic  days  of  Lamartine,  of  George  Sand, 
of  Merimee,  of  Musset,  of  Gautier,  of  the 
earlier  years  of  Victor  Hugo.  To  this  pe- 
riod belongs  the  Notre  Dame,  that  mixture  of 
heroism  and  unreality,  of  ill-deserved  attain- 


THE  BOMANTIC   NOVEL  149 

ment  and  still  more  undeserved  disaster,  that 
mixture  of  the  ideal  and  the  grotesque,  of  the 
fancifully  lovely  and  the  horribly  ugly,  which 
has  been  called  the  epic  of  the  unnatural.  As 
one  reads  one  seems  to  hear  a  voice  from  hope- 
less chaos.  Yet  even  in  this  work  the  romantic 
searcher  hints  at  his  vision  of  the  goal  he 
seeks.  It  is  romantic  in  its  insistence  that 
the  individual  is  the  basal  unit  of  society, 
that  blessings  come  up  from  below  and  not 
down  from  above,  that  excellence  is  an  up- 
springing,  not  a  gracious  gift,  that  virtue  is 
not  an  endowment,  but  an  inspiration.  Yet 
we  have  a  greater  message  when  thirty  years 
later  we  pass  from  Hugo  the  romanticist  to 
Hugo  the  reformer.  Jean  Valjean,  in  Les 
Miserahles,  giving  his  life  for  others,  is  the 
answer  to  the  question  flung  behind  him  by 
the  despairing  spirit  of  Werther.  The  ideal 
has  come  to  its  embodiment ;  the  wanderer 
has  become  the  hero. 

It  was  one  hundred  years  ago  that  Mrs. 
Radcliffe  wrote  "The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho." 
Two  generations  later  Blackmore  wrote  the 
"Lorna  Doone."    In  the  one,  the  unknown  is 


150    EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

a  terror  to  the  shuddering  mind ;  in  the  other, 
the  unknown  is  a  charm  to  the  exploring  fancy. 
Reading  the  earlier,  one  is  in  the  terrors  of  the 
darkness  of  that  black  hour  which  precedes  the 
wintry  dawn,  peopled  with  stealthy  shadows, 
haggard  assassins,  spirits  of  evil  and  destruc- 
tion. Reading  the  later,  one  is  in  the  half-light 
of  a  summer  twilight,  peopled  with  suggestion 
of  unknown  delight,  tripping  fancies,  happy  con- 
cealments, spirits  of  fantasy  and  hope.  Over  it 
all  is  the  atmosphere  of  the  ending  of  a  sum- 
mer afternoon.  We  wander  still,  as  the  roman- 
tic always  wanders,  through  half  concealments 
and  dimly  indicated  pathways.  But  we  wander 
toward  desire  lighted  by  anticipation,  thrilled 
with  expectation.  We  shall  in  our  wandering 
sometime  find  our  hope. 

Yet  one  may  not  predict  that  in  the  novel 
romantic  desire  will  always  find  its  fullest  ex- 
pression. For  the  great  god  Verity  has  given 
to  every  utterance  of  fiction  its  own  special  foe. 
The  novel  of  personality  has  its  special  foe  and 
that  foe  is  life ;  the  very  opportunities  of  de- 
velopment of  personality  in  modern,  complex 
life   make  its  presentation   in  the  pages  of  a 


THE  ROMANTIC   NOVEL  151 

novel  an  almost  hopeless  task.  The  historical 
novel  has  its  special  foe,  and  that  foe  is  history. 
In  like  fashion  the  romantic  novel  has  its  foe. 
That  foe  is  science.  It  is  not  the  romantic 
fancy  of  the  idealist  in  fiction  which  now 
probes  the  dark  and  secret  things  of  life  ;  it 
is  the  scientist  who  searches  the  hidden  things. 
The  Roentgen  rays  of  the  scientist  are  to-day 
searching  the  darkness  of  the  unknown  ;  the 
physicists  of  the  world  are  its  most  romantic 
explorers. 

Even  in  the  past  romanticism  has  never  been 
at  its  noblest  in  fiction.  It  is  in  art,  in  reli- 
gious symbolism,  in  poetry,  rather  than  in  fic- 
tion, that  the  romantic  has  found  most  natural 
utterance.  Yet  it  is  certain  to  be  a  permanent, 
if  not  the  noblest,  element  in  fiction.  For  the, 
romantic  wanderer  is  one  of  the  three  great 
types  in  literature.  Balzac  has  said  that  there 
are  three  classes  of  men  in  the  world.  There  are 
those  who  revolt;  there  are  those  who  struggle; 
there  are  those  who  accept.  He  who  accepts  is 
the  classicist ;  he  who  struggles  is  the  hero  ;  he 
who  revolts  is  the  romanticist.  In  literature 
he  who  revolts  is  the  romantic  wanderer  ;  he 

i 


152  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

who  struggles  is  the  knight  defender  ;  he  who 
accepts  is  the  citizen.  The^e  are  the  three 
eternal  types.  In  the  oldest  literature  of  the 
English  tongue,  we  have  three  great  classes  of 
English  poems  ;  we  have  the  epic  of  Beowulf ; 
we  have  the  lyrics  of  Cynewulf ;  we  have  the 
biblical  poems  of  Csedmon.  Csedmon  is  the 
citizen  ;  Beowulf  the  hero  ;  Cynewulf  the  wan- 
derer. Follow  down  the  centuries  and  we 
find  these  three  eternal  types  :  the  explorer, 
the  defender,  the  dweller.  We  have  the  citizen 
in  the  novel  of  personality ;  we  have  the  hero 
in  the  historical  novel ;  we  have  the  wanderer 
in  the  novel  of  romance.  These  are  eternal 
types.  Though  the  days  of  this  or  of  that 
search  may  cease,  the  day  of  romance  will 
never  wholly  pass;  so  long  as  the  soul  of  man 
shall  grow,  the  wanderer's  quest  will  never  end. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  NOVEL   OF  PURPOSE 

The  novel  of  purpose  is  sometimes  loosely 
defined  as  a  story  designed  to  enforce  some 
moral,  social,  or  ethical  lesson ;  or  one  which 
has  a  purpose  of  ethical  instruction  rather  than 
one  which  aims  at  purely  artistic  effect.  But 
literally  the  novel  of  purpose  is  a  novel  in 
which  all  the  actions,  incidents,  and  motives, 
which  are  grouped  into  a  plot,  are  so  fashioned 
that  the  story,  as  a  whole,  tends  toward  the 
accomplishment  of  some  definite  result,  such 
as  the  establishment  of  an  educational  method, 
or  the  reformation  of  a  social  abuse.  If, 
however,  the  novel  of  purpose  in  this  literal 
interpretation  alone  should  be  taken  as  sub- 
ject, this  chapter  would  be  brief,  for  the  novel 
of  conscious,  definite  purpose  is  not  common. 
I  compiled,  not  long  since,  a  reasonably  com- 
plete list  of  standard  novels,  chosen  as  ex- 
153 


154  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

amples  representing  progress  from  1740  to 
the  present  day,  —  much  like  a  map  or  chart 
of  fiction.  This  list  includes  only  such  novels 
as  may  properly  be  called  classic  examples, 
and  has  a  total  of  about  two  hundred,  of 
which  sixty-eight  are  English,  thirty-four  are 
American,  forty-eight  are  German,  and  fifty 
are  French.  In  looking  through  this  summary 
of  the  history  of  fiction,  it  becomes  evident 
at  once  that  the  novel  of  purpose,  taking 
that  designation  in  its  literal  sense,  is  an 
infrequent  novel.  In  the  English  group  there 
are  less  than  a  dozen  novels  of  the  first  rank 
which  are  didactic  novels  of  purpose ;  in  the 
American  group  less  than  a  half-dozen  novels 
of  the  first  rank  are  didactic  novels  of  pur- 
pose ;  and  not  a  much  larger  proportion  in  the 
French  or  German  group.  So  long  as  the  exam- 
ination is  confined  to  a  consideration  of  first- 
rate  work,  the  discovery  of  examples  of  this 
type  of  novel  is  difficult.  Commencing  with 
the  earliest  days  of  fiction  we  travel  a  long  way 
down  the  years  before  we  meet  with  a  single 
example ;  scarcely,  indeed,  can  one  be  found 
before  the   middle    of    the    present    century. 


THE  NOVEL  OF   PURPOSE  165 

"  Alton  Locke  "  and  "  Yeast "  may  be  called 
novels  of  purpose ;  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  may 
be  called  a  novel  of  purpose;  taking  in  each 
case  the  designation  with  literalness  of  inter- 
pretation. "Yeast"  was  written  in  1848,  "Al- 
ton Locke"  in  1849,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" 
in  1852 ;  and  it  is  nearly  ten  years  more  after 
these  before  we  come  to  another  equally  good 
example  of  a  novel  of  purpose  in  the  literal 
meaning  of  that  term.  Even  if  one  goes 
through  a  list  of  novels  without  critical  bias 
and  is  liberal  in  his  selection,  the  list  is  not 
very  large.  Running  through  English  nov- 
els, for  example,  one  can  name  two  novels 
of  Charles  Kingsley,  "Yeast"  and  "Alton 
Locke ;  "  three  novels  of  Charles  Reade, 
"Put  Yourself  in  His  Place,"  "Hard  Cash," 
and  "  Never  Too  Late  to  Mend ;  "  parts  of 
three  novels  of  Dickens,  "Nicholas  Nickleby," 
"  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  and  "  Bleak  House ;  " 
Miss  Mulock's  "Hannah;"  Wilkie  Collins's 
"Man  and  Wife;"  George  Eliot's  "Daniel 
Deronda ; "  Besant's  "  All  Sorts  and  Condi- 
tions of  Men;"  Mrs.  Ward's  "Marcella." 
Here   are   but   eight    authors   and  the   reader 


156  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

cannot  readily  increase  the  number,  unless, 
perhaps,  he  puts  in  such  writings  as  the 
moral  essays,  with  leanings  toward  the  novel 
form,  of  J.  G.  Holland,  or  of  Miss  Maria 
Edgeworth.  It  would  appear  upon  this  ex- 
amination that  the  novel  of  purpose  is  not 
common  in  fact.  Moreover,  in  theory,  the 
novel  of  definite  reformatory  purpose  seems  to 
be  an  expression  of  literature  involving  con- 
tradictions of  artistic  aims.  If  the  novel  is  to 
be  a  record  of  emotion,  of  life ;  or  if  it  is  to  be 
an  unbiassed,  unprejudiced,  sincere  protrayal 
of  actual  conditions,  of  tendencies  stimulated 
or  thwarted  by  circumstances  in  life  develop- 
ment ;  or  if  it  is  to  be  an  impartial  and  unprej- 
udiced criticism  of  life, — then  a  preconceived 
theory  or  a  special  design  of  accomplishment 
is  not  the  condition  nor  the  equipment  most 
favorable  to  success.  So  says  theory.  The 
honest,  unbiassed,  unphilosophized  portrayal  of 
life-conditions,  we  say  in  our  easy  way,  is  the 
novel's  mission ;  and  the  novel  with  a  message 
loses  its  special  power  just  in  proportion  as  it 
permits  itself  to  become  a  vehicle  for  the 
trai^mission  of  a  message,  no  matter  how  high. 


THE  NOVEL  OP  PURPOSE  157 

or  important,  or  noble  that  message.  Thus,  I 
think,  many  of  us  are  tempted  to  reason.  And 
thus  reasoning,  we  seem  to  win  a  quick  and 
triumphant  victory  for  the  unphilosophized 
novel,  for  the  novel  which  is  a  transcript  of  life 
without  aiming  to  improve,  to  change,  or  even 
to  comment  upon,  existing  conditions. 

But  having  won  this  victory  for  the  auton- 
omy of  the  novel,  I  suspect  that  misgivings 
begin  to  creep  into  our  minds  because  of  the 
apparent  completeness  of  the  victory.  We 
have  a  suspicion  that  we  may  have  come  to 
a  hasty  conclusion.  We  recall  many  novels 
not  set  down  in  the  lists  we  make  which 
are  not  definitely  for  a  purpose,  but  which 
are  yet  so  saturated  with  purposefulness  that 
they  move  as  well  as  inspire  us.  And  we 
note  that  literature  grows  more  crowded  with 
novels  thus  saturated  with  purpose  as  the 
years  go  on.  Before  1840  we  find  scarcely 
any  novels,  save  of  the  class  of  the  moral  essays 
of  Miss  Edgeworth,  or  the  "  Fool  of  Quality  " 
of  Henry  Brooke,  to  which  even  with  liberal 
interpretation  the  name  "  novel  of  purpose " 
can  be  given.     But  we  find  that   the  notion 


158  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

of  purpose  attaches  in  some  form,  greater  or 
less,  to  a  large  proportion  of  the  novels  written 
in  the  decade  beginning  with  1890.  One  be- 
gins to  suspect  that  his  first  induction  con- 
cerning novels  of  purpose  was  hasty ;  begins 
to  suspect  that  it  may  be  with  novels  as  with 
political  systems  that  — 

"  Through  the  ages  one  increasing  purpose  runs, 
And  the  thoughts  of  men  are  widened  with  the  pro- 
cess of  the  suns." 

It  may  be  that  both  our  definition  and  our 
classification  of  novels  of  purpose  have  been 
narrow.  Granting,  if  one  likes,  that  the  di- 
dactic novel  of  purpose  is  a  rare  and,  per- 
haps, not  a  typical  form  of  novel,  it  yet  may  be 
true  that  purpose  is  involved  in  the  very  idea 
of  the  serious  novel,  and  that  the  study  of 
such  manifestations  in  fiction  as  can  readily 
be  set  forth  may  justly  be  taken  as  one  of 
the  subjects  of  our  investigations  into  the 
art  of  fiction.  In  considering  it  I  propose 
two  questions:  Does  the  conscious  presence 
of  a  didactic  motive  help  or  injure  the  novel 
as  a  work   of   art?     What  is   the   true  novel 


THE  NOVEL  OF   PURPOSE  159 

of  purpose  ?     And  I  consider  these   questions 
in  the  light  of  examples. 

For  American  readers  the  first  or  most  com- 
plete example  of  the  purpose-novel  will,  of 
course,  be  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  To  this 
generation  it  may  be  impossible  to  set  forth 
the  reasons  of  the  stir  made  at  its  appear- 
ance by  this  novel.  It  was  written  half  a 
century  ago  and  we  of  to-day  have  passed 
out  of  the  life  which  it  reflected.  Since  then 
the  whole  relations  of  the  North  and  South 
have  changed ;  since  then  war  has  burned 
through  the  tissue  of  the  questions  involved  ; 
since  then  we  have  seen  the  passing  of  the 
whole  civilization  depicted  in  the  story.  For 
us  of  this  generation,  that  novel  is  merely  a 
picture  of  a  day  that  is  gone.  It  is  notable 
still,  but  with  no  special  message  for  the  peo- 
ple of  this  time.  Yet  the  novel  was  a  con- 
scious novel  of  purpose  ;  it  helped  to  effect  a 
great  work  ;  and  it  still  lives.  That  it  had  a 
conscious  purpose  I  need  not  argue  ;  that  it 
helped  to  effect  that  purpose  no  one  will,  I 
tliink,  dispute.  It  is  too  much  to  say  that 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  freed  the  slaves  ;  but 


160  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  it  notably 
advanced  the  cause  of  freedom.  Written  as 
the  second  novel  of  an  almost  unknown 
writer,  the  wife  of  an  excellent  but  not  then 
famous  professor  in  Bowdoin  College,  it  had 
no  remarkable  advantages  ;  but  it  roused  a 
nation  and  made  the  contest  of  civilization, 
then  going  on  in  America,  a  visible,  physical 
fact  to  mankind.  It  is  easy  now,  as  we  read 
the  novel,  to  find  flaws  in  it ;  it  is  easy  to 
point  out  defects  ;  but  is  not  so  easy  to  show 
whence  came  its  power.  Perhaps  one  may 
best  say  that  the  power  came  from  the  inten- 
sity of  its  emotion  and  from  the  breadth  of 
its  human  interest.  Yet,  besides  this,  it  had 
a  special  opportunity  ;  it  gave  a  picture  of  a 
unique  civilization  ;  and  it  presented  a  prob- 
lem of  social  science  greater  even  than  the 
important  instance  toward  which  was  directed 
the  burden  of  its  message.  Its  special  oppor- 
tunity was  that  it  spoke  to  an  aroused  people. 
In  the  early  settlement  of  a  new  country 
ethical  questions,  even  those  of  great  conse- 
quence, wait  upon  material  conditions  for 
their  solution.     The  convenience  of  a  system 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  161 

of  bondsmen  was  extremely  apparent;  the 
moral  question  involved  was  less  pressing  than 
the  need  of  labor.  So  slaves  came  into  this 
country.  In  the  great  Southern  region  it  was 
particularly  convenient  to  employ  laborers  ac- 
customed to  the  heat  of  a  tropical  sun  ;  and 
since  those  laborers  were  at  first  men  almost 
savage,  and  the  time  a  less  advanced  state  of 
civilization,  a  system  of  master  and  servant 
became  a  most  convenient  system.  Slavery 
became  established.  At  the  North,  where  ma- 
terial conditions  were  less  exigent,  the  system 
of  slavery  yielded  as  notions  of  morality  ad- 
vanced. At  the  South  the  process,  immensely 
hindered  by  economic  obstacles,  went  on  more 
slowly.  Yet  the  government  was  based  upon 
the  proposition  of  the  equality  of  man  before  the 
law  ;  a  system  of  slavery  involved  a  contradic- 
tion ;  and  sooner  or  later,  said  the  statesman, 
the  irrepressible  conflict  between  the  theory  of 
freedom  and  the  condition  of  slavery  was 
bound  to  come.  In  1850  the  time  came,  A 
group  of  antislavery  men,  a  group  of  aboli- 
tionists, noble  in  intention,  though,  perhaps, 
intemperate  in  utterance,  aroused  a  portion  of 


162  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  nation.  Intellectually,  the  North  was  con- 
vinced that  the  time  for  action  was  coming. 
For  emotional  arousement  it  waited  ;  and  this 
was  the  special  opportunity  of  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin."  The  word  stirred  the  heart  of  the 
nation.  It  did  more  than  this.  It  outlined 
vividly  the  picture  of  a  unique  civilization 
linked  with  the  past  and  absolutely  incompati- 
ble with  any  conceivable  present.  Putting 
aside  moral  considerations,  there  was  much  to 
be  said  for  the  system  of  slavery  in  the  South. 
It  was  adapted  to  local  conditions ;  it  was 
paternal,  even  patriarchal  ;  biblical  authority 
might  almost  be  claimed  for  it ;  domestic  hap- 
piness in  many  cases  was  its  result.  Of  this 
civilization  the  picture  is  given  more  clearly 
than  in  any  similar  novel.  But  in  addition, 
the  social  problem  involved  was  stated  so 
completely  that  it  became  the  utterance  of 
a  nation  rather  than  that  of  an  individual. 
And  so  it  came  about  that,  great  as  was 
the  special  message,  the  universal  message  of 
that  particular  novel  was  even  greater.  It 
was  not  because  it  helped  a  social  reform  a 
generation    ago    that    it    became    a    classic ; 


THE  NOVEL   OF   PURPOSE  163 

but  because  it  was  so  saturated  with  emotion, 
so  saturated  with  moral  quality,  that  it  had 
within  itself  the  power  of  life.  It  did  not 
become  a  great  novel  because  it  helped  the 
reform  ;  it  helped  the  reform  because  it  was 
a  great  novel.  It  appeals  to-day  to  the  imagi- 
nations and  the  hearts  of  men  though  nearly 
forty  years  have  passed  since  the  last  slave 
trod  this  soil.  It  has  become  a  classic  because 
in  the  treatment  it  has  embalmed  a  passing 
civilization  ;  because  it  has  so  embodied  it  that 
the  composition  is  a  creation ;  because  in  the 
picturing  of  this  unique  civilization  it  has 
created  unique  characters,  notable  figures, 
Topsy,  Harris,  Eva,  Uncle  Tom,  —  as  familiar 
and  as  vivid  to  most  of  us  as  the  persons  of 
our  own  households.  It  has  been  translated 
into  almost  every  language  on  the  globe,  and 
very  likely  will  endure  when  slavery  has  become 
but  a  name  on  earth  and  the  special  oppor- 
tunity which  gave  it  birth  has  been  forgotten. 
Certainly  it  was  a  novel  of  purpose.  Yet  it 
does  not  live  because  it  was  a  novel  of  pur- 
pose. It  was  a  novel  of  purpose  because  it 
was   written  by  a  purposeful  woman.     But  it 


164  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

was  written  with  flaming  pen  of  intense  emo- 
tion, and  lived  because  insl^inct  with  life. 

The  study  of  literature  and  science  is  a 
revelation  of  coincidences  so  singular  that 
they  seem  to  imply  design.  The  discovery  of 
a  planet  by  one  astronomer  follows  hard  upon 
a  discovery  by  another  astronomer  of  another 
planet.  The  application  of  an  anaesthetic,  the 
discoA'^ery  of  a  remedy  for  a  disease,  comes 
simultaneously  from  different  countries.  If 
a  great  dramatist  such  as  -SCschylus  appears, 
another  great  dramatist  such  as  Sophocles  bears 
him  company.  If  a  Savonarola  is  hanged  in 
Italy,  a  Luther  is  left  alive  in  Germany.  If 
a  Milton  writes  an  epic  in  poetry,  a  Bunyan 
writes  an  epic  in  prose.  But  we  should  little 
expect  that,  if  a  novel  frees  the  slaves  of  the 
Western  continent,  we  should  find  a  novel  just 
before  had  freed  the  slaves  of  an  Eastern  con- 
tinent. Perhaps  neither  statement  in  baldest 
form,  in  most  literal  form,  would  be  quite  the 
fact.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  was  but  one  of 
the  influences  which  led  to  the  freeing  of  the 
slaves  in  America ;  and  the  "  Annals  of  a 
Sportsman,"  by  Turgenieff,  was  but  one  of  the 


THE  NOVEL  OF   PURPOSE  165 

influences  that  led  to  the  freeing  of  the  slaves 
in  Russia.  Yet  it  is  true  that  in  much  the 
same  sense  that  Mrs.  Stowe  advanced  the  cause 
of  freedom  in  America  by  the  purpose-novel 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  so  Turgenieff  advanced 
the  cause  of  freedom  in  Russia  by  his  "  Annals 
of  a  Sportsman."  It  was  his  second  work,  was 
published  in  1846,  and  is  not  to-day,  probably, 
his  best-known  work  in  America.  Very  likely 
we  recall  "  Fathers  and  Sons,"  or  "  Smoke,"  or 
"  Virgin  Soil,"  or  the  "  Poems  in  Prose,"  more 
quickly  than  the  "Annals  of  a  Sportsman," 
when  the  name  of  Turgenieff  comes  to  mind. 
It  was  not,  strictly  speaking,  a  novel,  but  a 
collection  of  short  stories;  to  the  first  of 
which,  "Khor  and  Kalinuitch,"  is  due  the 
credit  of  the  arousement  of  Russia.  In  it 
Turgenieff  did  not  attack  the  system  of  serf- 
dom; he  did  more  than  that  —  he  described 
it.  He  gave  it  its  death-blow  by  painting  it 
exactly  as  it  existed,  without  exaggeration, 
without  extenuation.  Like  Mrs.  Stowe  he 
spoke  to  an  aroused  people.  Four  years 
before,  Gogol's  "  Dead  Souls "  had  appeared, 
and  in  the  same  year  the  first  ukase,  a  decree 


166    EVOLUTION  OP  THE   ENGLISH  NOVEL 

modifying  the  condition  of  the  serfs,  had  been 
announced.  It  was  to  an^  aroused  people 
that  Turgenieff  spoke,  and  the  story  he  told 
had  its  reward.  It  is  too  much  to  say  of 
this,  as  it  was  too  much  to  say  of  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  that  it  freed  the  serfs;  but  it 
is  hardly  too  much  to  say  that  when  Turgeniefif 
signed  the  charter  for  the  emancipation  of  his 
serfs  with  the  same  pen  which  wrote  the  "  An- 
nals of  a  Sportsman,"  he  wrote  a  document  of 
freedom  no  less  in  the  one  than  in  the  other  act. 
It  was  the  handwriting  on  the  wall  in  the 
"  Annals  of  a  Sportsman  "  in  1846  which  made 
the  final  abolishment  of  serfdom  in  1861  seem 
rather  the  fulfilment  of  a  prophecy  than  a 
novelty  of  statesmanship.  It  was  a  purpose- 
ful story  when  written.  Time  has  made  it  a 
story  of  purpose. 

If  we  undertake  a  comparison  of  the  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  of  Mrs.  Stowe  with  the  "Yeast" 
and  the  "  Alton  Locke  "  of  Mr.  Charles  Kings- 
ley,  we  shall,  I  think,  find  such  comparison  to 
result  in  a  complete  correspondence  in  only  a 
few  particulars.  The  dates  are  practically  the 
same  ;  "  Yeast "  and  "  Alton  Locke  "  were  pub- 


THE  NOVEL  OF   PUEPOSE  167 

lished  in  1848  and  1850,  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin" 
in  1852.  "  Yeast "  was  the  first  novel  of  Charles 
Kingsley,  and "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  though 
the  second  in  fact,  —  for  the  "Mayflower,"  a 
feeble  work  long  since  forgotten,  had  preceded 
it,  —  was  the  first  important  novel  of  Mrs. 
Stowe.  The  arousement  of  emotion  in  Charles 
Kingsley  led  to  the  portrayals  in  "  Yeast  "  and 
"  Alton  Locke,"  as  the  arousement  of  emotion, 
the  indignation  against  a  great  wrong,  the 
vibration  of  a  quivering  heart,  led  to  the  por- 
trayals in  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin."  Yet,  if  we 
compare  the  two  now,  impartially,  the  English 
work  seems  slighter  and  less  important.  The 
conditions  in  England  were  not  conditions  of 
stress  and  inevitable,  fatal  conflict,  as  were  the 
conditions  in  the  United  States.  As  we  read 
"  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  we  are  brought  face  to 
face  with  a  great  race  problem,  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  problem  of  the  harmonization  in  a 
social  fabric  of  an  essentially  superior  with  an 
essentially  inferior  and  entirely  different  race. 
We  have  in  this  problem  something  more  than 
an  incidental  encounter  with  circumstances 
which  are  passed.      Slavery  is   gone  ;    but   in 


168  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

some  fashion  the  problem  of  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin,"  the  problem  of  the  relation  of  two 
races  differing  in  ancestry,  capacity,  interests, 
differing  emotionally  and  intellectually,  but 
compelled  to  live  together,  is  a  problem  still 
with  us.  It  was  and  is  a  great  problem.  Com- 
pared with  this,  the  social  questions  involved 
in  the  purpose-novels  of  Charles  Kingsley, — 
the  question  of  the  relation  of  the  employed  to 
the  employer,  of  the  laborer  to  the  proprietor, 
of  the  apprentice  to  the  master,  of  the  land- 
tiller  to  the  landowner,  —  these  seem  questions 
for  quick  decision  rather  than  questions  im- 
possible of  solution.  Read  now,  after  more 
than  fifty  years,  these  novels  of  Charles  Kings- 
ley  seem  little  more  than  studies  of  a  problem, 
— .  studies  of  the  old  problem  of  the  relation  of 
power  to  weakness,  —  studies  gently  stimula- 
ting, rather  than  fiercely  arousing,  the  emo- 
tions. A  direct  comparison  of  "  Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin"  with  the  two  early  works  of  Charles 
Kingsley  is  almost  unfair  to  the  English  writer, 
Kingsley  had  no  such  great  opportunity ; 
he  could  depict  no  such  unique  civiliza- 
tion.     Nevertheless,   these   two    novels   were 


THE  NOVEL  OF   PURPOSE  169 

written  by  a  man  as  much  in  earnest  as 
was  the  author  of  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin." 
"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  may  be  said  to  have 
come  out  of  the  emotions  of  a  nation  and 
to  have  voiced  the  message  of  a  people ;  the 
first  novels  of  Charles  Kingsley  came  out  of 
the  life  of  a  man  and  voiced  the  message  of 
an  earnest  soul.  The  story  of  Charles  Kings- 
ley  is  the  story  of  a  life  of  intense  earnest- 
ness. When,  in  1848,  he  wrote  his  first  novel, 
"Yeast,"  he  was  twenty-nine,  and  was  rector 
of  the  parish  church  in  the  little  village  of 
Eversley,  in  Hampshire,  where  he  had  then  been 
as  curate  and  rector  one-half  dozen  years ; 
where  he  was  to  stay  till  his  death  at  fifty-five. 
He  was  simply  a  country  clergyman  preaching 
to  a  handful  of  rustics,  serving  the  uneducated 
people  of  a  sparsely  inhabited  country-side. 
Nevertheless,  the  name  of  Charles  Kingsley, 
the  author  of  the  "  Three  Fishers,"  of  "  West- 
ward Ho,"  of  "  Hereward  the  Wake,"  of 
"  Hypatia,"  is  to-day  far  more  honored  than  the 
titles  of  many  of  his  superiors  in  outward 
ecclesiastical  rank.  He  was  one  of  the  pioneers 
in  that  scheme  or  system,  then  scarcely  worthy 


170  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  name  of  social  science,  which  undertakes  to 
supplement  the  material  with  the  spiritual  in 
the  disposition  of  the  opportunities  of  social 
life.  It  is  common  enough  now  for  us  to  hear 
of  the  political  economist  with  a  conscience,  for 
us  to  hear  of  systems  of  social  organization 
which  have  for  their  basis  something  more 
than  theories  of  profit  and  loss,  of  gain  and 
impairment.  But  England  fifty  years  ago  was 
just  coming  to  the  consideration  of  these  same 
questions.  It  was  in  1838  that  the  document 
known  as  the  people's  charter,  intended  as  the 
basis  of  a  bill  to  be  presented  to  Parliament, 
was  brought  forth.  The  demand  was  for  a 
Charter  in  place  of  the  time-honored,  but  un- 
written, Constitution.  This  charter  demanded 
a  salary  for  members  of  Parliament ;  demanded 
the  abolition  of  a  property  qualification  for 
Parliament ;  demanded  annual  Parliaments  ; 
demanded  a  new  system  of  equal  electoral 
districts  ;  demanded  vote  by  ballot ;  demanded 
universal  suffrage.  This  was  in  1838.  From 
these  demands  came  Chartism  which,  as  a  move- 
ment, found  its  end  on  Kensington  Common  in 
1848.     But   though   Chartism   as  a  movement 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  171 

ended,  Chartism  as  an  influence  endured. 
Charles  Kingsley  was  a  Chartist,  a  hopeless 
worker  in  an  unpopular  cause,  in  1848.  But 
in  1872,  three  years  before  his  death,  he  saw 
the  vote  by  ballot,  the  most  important  of 
the  Chartists'  demands,  granted.  England 
has,  by  its  Reform  Act  of  1884,  granted 
almost  the  system  of  equal  electoral  districts 
claimed  by  the  Chartists.  Universal  suffrage 
is  practically  attained  now,  and  in  its  complete- 
ness is  predicted  as  a  logical  necessity  of  the 
early  future.  So,  looking  back,  —  when  now, 
in  the  fruitage  of  time,  the  reforms  that  seemed 
so  impossible,  whose  very  discussion  roused  the 
fierce  passions  of  men,  have  come,  —  we  find 
it  hard  to  realize  the  England  of  the  Chartists. 
It  was  an  England  torn  with  fierce  discussion 
of  social  questions,  for  the  settlement  of  which 
the  years  1849  and  1850,  fruitful  as  they  were 
in  outward  stir  and  movement,  saw  no  more 
important  contribution  than  the  two  novels  of 
Charles  Kingsley. 

I  shall  not  stop  to  recall  in  full  the  story  of 
these  novels.  The  story  in  both  is  the  story 
of  the   social  and  industrial    agitation   of   the 


172    EVOLUTION   OF   THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

day.  "  Yeast "  is  the  recital  of  the  story  of  the 
wrongs  of  the  agricultural  laborer;  "  Alton 
Locke "  is  the  recital  of  the  story  of  the 
wrongs  of  the  apprentice.  The  story  of  Alton 
Locke  is  a  tragedy.  He  is  the  son  of  a 
widow,  brought  up  under  harsh  conditions  of 
intellectual  starvation,  of  poverty,  of  religious 
bigotry.  Gifted  with  the  sensitive  emotions 
and  the  spiritual  insight  of  a  poet,  at  fifteen  he 
is  apprenticed  to  a  tailor  and  passes  five  years  in 
an  attic  with  his  needle.  His  liberality  in  reli- 
gious thought  parts  him  from  his  family ;  his  lib- 
erality of  view  parts  him  from  most  of  his 
friends.  When  the  tailor-proprietor  dies,  his 
son  establishes  the  contract  system — the  famil- 
iar sweat-shop  system  of  more  modern  days— 
and  Locke  rebels  and  is  discharged.  Then  be- 
gins his  new  career,  at  once  to  earn  his  living 
and  to  raise  his  fellow-men  with  his  intellectual 
effort.  He  advocates  the  Charter;  he  arouses 
opinion  against  the  evils  of  sweating ;  he  tries 
to  unite  people  of  influence  with  the  working 
masses  against  the  middlemen  and  leeches. 
Soon  he  has  an  opportunity  of  advancement;  a 
dean  takes  notice  of  him,  and  the  dean's  daugh- 


THE  NOVEL   OF  PURPOSE  173 

ter  seems  likely  to  prove  worthy  the  love  he 
gives  her.  His  poems  are  published,  with  the 
more  radical  lines  stricken  out  by  the  dean, 
and  some  fame  comes  to  him.  He  might,  per- 
haps, have  had  a  life  of  ease.  But  his  heart  is 
with  the  poor.  He  goes  back  to  them;  he 
rouses  them.  Finally  he  stirs  one  band  beyond 
control ;  the  men  become  a  mob ;  they  burn  a 
house;  and  Locke,  the  unfortunate  apparent 
cause,  goes  to  prison.  The  book  ends  as  a 
tragedy.  He  comes  out  of  prison  discouraged. 
His  friends  have  died ;  his  love  has  proved  un- 
worthy ;  and  he  hopelessly  starts  out  to  begin 
life  again  in  the  Western  continent,  whose 
shores  he  never  sees.  All  this  was  a  hopeless 
story,  as  read  in  the  pages  of  Charles  Kings- 
ley;  a  story  of  which  the  refrain  might  well 
have  been  his  own  lines :  — 

"For  men  must  work  and  women  must  weep, 
And  the  sooner  'tis  over,  the  sooner  to  sleep." 

But  it  is  a  hopeful  story  read  to-day.  The 
passion  of  strenuous  eifort  in  these  books  has 
burned  away  the  mist  and  fog  of  the  earlier 
day.      It    is    too    much    to    say   that    "Alton 


174  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Locke"  brought  on  the  political  reforms  of 
England — the  demands  of  the  Charter,  the 
equal  districts,  the  vote  by  ballot,  the  extended 
suffrage.  It  is  too  much  to  say  that  "  Yeast " 
or  "  Alton  Locke "  freed  the  apprentice  or 
emancipated  the  agricultural  laborer.  But  it 
is  not  too  much  to  say  that  they  notably 
advanced  the  cause  of  freedom.  When  the 
influences  are  summed  up  which  have  made 
for  social  and  political  enlightenment  in  Eng- 
land, no  small  share  will  be  found  due  to  these 
purposeful  novels  of  Charles  Kingsley. 

Sixteen  years  after  "  Alton  Locke "  was 
published  came  a  novel  whose  name  at  once 
suggests  the  earlier  work,  —  "Felix  Holt,  the 
Radical,"  by  George  Eliot.  At  first  thought 
there  seems  a  very  close  correspondence  be- 
tween the  two  novels.  The  hero,  Felix  Holt, 
is,  like  Alton  Locke,  a  man  of  the  people  ;  like 
him  he  gives  up  prospects  of  success  for  the 
sake  of  the  poor.  The  detail  of  his  story,  espe- 
cially in  its  chief  catastrophe,  which  is  the  fail- 
ure of  a  well-meant  effort  and  which  lands 
Felix  in  prison,  recalls  the  earlier  work  with 
great  distinctness  ;  yet  "  Felix  Holt "  is  both 


THE  NOVEL  OP  PURPOSE  175 

•weaker  and  stronger  than  is  "  Alton  Locke."  It 
is  weaker  as  a  purpose-novel ;  it  is  not  written 
out  of  a  heart  hot  with  emotion  as  was  "Alton 
Locke  " ;  it  does  not  burn  its  message  into  one 
with  the  relentless  intensity  of  the  earlier  work. 
In  so  far  it  is  weaker.  But  it  is,  if  not  stronger, 
at  least  completer,  because  it  gives  some  clearer 
hint  of  a  solution.  "  Alton  Locke "  is  the 
tragedy  of  a  failure,  hopeless,  grievous ;  "Felix 
Holt"  comes  as  if  it  were  intended  to  be  its 
sequel.  Its  message  is  that  through  abnega- 
tion of  the  pleasures  of  the  earthly  life  one 
may  help  or  save  those  struggling  with  the 
problems  of  that  life.  This  is  the  method  of 
"  Felix  Holt."  It  is  a  more  hopeful,  a  more 
modern,  perhaps  a  greater,  message. 

The  novel  of  purpose  is  not  a  common  form 
with  George  Eliot.  I  recall  at  this  moment 
but  one  other  of  her  works  to  which  this 
appellation  could  properly  be  given,  —  that 
is  "  Daniel  Deronda."  It  is  the  attempt  at 
answering  the  question :  "  What  makes  a  life 
worth  living  ? "  The  question  is  answered 
by  the  portrayal  of  three  characters  :  a  per- 
fectly selfish  man  in  Sir  Grandcourt ;  a  repent- 


176     EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH   NOVEL 

ant  woman  in  Gwendolen  Harleth ;  a  man 
with  a  mission  in  Daniel  Deronda.  The  les- 
son is  obvious  enough.  Gwendolen  marries 
Grandcourt,  and  the  failure  of  a  sterile  life 
of  self-seeking  is  the  lesson  of  the  tragedy 
of  these  two  lives.  Daniel  Deronda  takes  up 
the  mission  of  the  reestablishment  of  his  people 
in  their  former  Eastern  home,  and  the  glory 
of  his  purpose  casts  a  halo  over  earnest  effort. 
Yet  one  may  call  this  rather  a  study  of 
purpose  in  life  than  a  novel  of  purpose.  It  is 
not  conceivable  that  George  Eliot  intended  to 
advance,  by  this  novel,  the  special  mission  of 
Daniel  Deronda.  There  is  no  evidence  that 
this  mission  was  a  special  design  of  the  author 
nor  that  the  novel  was  written  for  its  advance- 
ment. The  book  concerns  itself  with  a  life 
actuated  by  a  purpose,  and  is  the  story  of  a  man 
of  purpose.  But  what  the  purpose  is  to  be ; 
how  wise,  or  how  unwise,  are  the  methods  of  the 
special  religious  patriotism  of  Daniel  Deronda ; 
how  real  or  how  visionary  the  scheme  of  the 
reestablishment  of  the  Jews  in  their  former 
Eastern  home, — these  questions  are  but  second- 
ary, if  suggested  to  us  at  all,  as  we  read.     The 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  177 

interest  is  in  the  story  of  a  strong,  unselfish 
life  in  Daniel  Deronda,  as  contrasted  with  the 
mistaken  life  effort  of  Gwendolen  Harleth,  and 
as  contrasted  with  the  weak  and  selfish  life 
of  Grandcourt.  The  lesson,  if  there  is  one,  is 
a  proposition  of  life  direction,  rather  than  a 
message  of  special  action.  And  in  so  far  as 
there  is  any  suggestion  of  specialness  in  the 
direction  of  the  purpose  work  of  the  hero, 
such  suggestion  injures  rather  than  helps 
the  novel,  by  making  the  message  seem  special 
rather  than  universal.  Yet  this  is  a  strong 
work  and  in  no  real  sense  merely  a  novel  of 
purpose.  It  is  rather  a  keen,  merciless  satire 
upon  certain  phases  of  society  life  with  sug- 
gestions of  nobler  methods,  and  a  hint  at  a 
larger  philosophy  of  life. 

The  novels  I  have  thus  far  discussed  have 
been,  for  the  most  part,  novels  of  the  heart, 
—  written  toward  an  end,  but  out  of  intense 
emotion.  I  come  now  to  consider  an  author 
concerning  whose  works  one  can  affirm  less 
confidently.  The  life  of  Charles  Reade  is  a 
life  of  contradictions.  He  was  a  teacher  who 
never  taught,  a  lawyer  who  never  practised. 
If 


178    EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH   NOVEL 

a  college  man  who  took  little  interest  in  his 
college,  a  dramatist  who  will  be  least  of  all 
remembered  for  his  dramas,  a  bachelor  who 
wrote  a  book  against  the  evils  of  celibacy. 
Charles  Reade  is  of  the  age  in  which  have 
been  the  writers  I  have  thus  far  studied. 
Turgenieff  was  born  in  1812,  Charles  Reade 
in  1814,  Mrs.  Stowe  in  1811,  Charles  Kings- 
ley  and  George  Eliot  in  1819.  "Annals  of 
a  Sportsman"  was  published  in  1846,  "Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin"  in  1852,  "Never  Too  Late  to 
Mend"  in  1856.  It  was  as  if  a  wave  of  influ- 
ence had  come  upon  the  novelists  of  England, 
and  had  made  novel-expression  to  be  purpose 
expression  in  the  Fifties.  One  may,  perhaps, 
claim  that  the  novels  of  Charles  Reade  lack 
sympathy  and  real  emotional  arousement,  that 
the  characters  in  the  novels  of  Charles  Reade 
lack  reality.  But  there  was  no  lack  of  sym- 
pathy in  his  design ;  and  there  was  no  lack  of 
reality  in  the  intent  or  the  attitude  of  Charles 
Reade  toward  his  work.  The  novels  of 
Charles  Reade  grew  out  of  his  life.  That 
life,  though  not  rich  in  incident,  has  interest 
for   the   student.       It   was   far   from  being   a 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  179 

dramatic  life,  but  it  was  certainly  the  life  of 
a  born  dramatist,  of  a  combatant ;  and  it  was 
a  life  of  contradiction.  Charles  Reade  was 
the  son  of  the  lord  of  the  manor  of  Ipsden, 
Huntercombe,  and  of  two  other  manors  in  the 
county  of  Oxford  ;  but  the  last  notion  that 
would  have  suited  his  mind,  and  the  last  plan 
of  life  he  would  ever  have  adopted,  would  have 
been  the  becoming  himself  lord  of  a  manor. 
He  was  graduated  at  Oxford  in  1835  and  was 
elected  fellow  at  Magdalen  the  same  year  ; 
but  the  least  natural  life  for  him  would 
have  been  a  professorial  residence  at  Oxford. 
Instead  of  continuing  to  reside  there,  following 
the  comfortable  custom  of  two  generations 
ago,  he  retained  his  fellowship  at  Magdalen 
and  studied  for  the  bar  in  London.  He  was 
called  to  the  bar  in  1842,  which  served  to 
him  as  a  signal  for  abandoning  the  law.  It 
was  not  till  1851,  when  Reade  was  thirty- 
seven,  that  he  went  back  to  Oxford,  and  then 
only  because  compelled  to  come  to  act  as  vice- 
president  of  his  college.  In  Oxford  he  wrote 
"Never  Too  Late  to  Mend,"  which  was  the 
first  of  his  distinctively  purpose-novels.     It  is 


180  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

certain  that  Charles  Reade  was  a  born  fighter, 
and  this  novel  of  purpose,  "Never  Too  Late 
to  Mend,"  thrills  as  with  the  trumpet  of  one 
going  forth  to  battle.  In  form  it  seems  to 
be  the  union  of  three  tales,  —  a  story  of  love ; 
a  story  of  the  adventures  of  two  Australian 
gold  diggers  ;  and  a  story  of  a  mismanaged 
prison.  In  construction,  these  three  stories 
seem  to  lack  completeness  of  coordination. 
If  this  is  true  it  is  not  at  all  because  Charles 
Reade  lacked  the  power  to  make  a  perfect 
novel  plot ;  it  is  because  his  dramatic  mind 
demanded  the  foremost  position  for  the  ex- 
pression of  the  evils  of  prison  management. 
The  book  is  an  attack ;  it  brought  forth  re- 
joinders. It  is  hard  to  say  to-day  just  what 
influence  the  book  had  upon  the  reformation 
of  the  prisons,  but  certain  it  is  that  in  Eng- 
land the  prisons  are  reformed  ;  and  the  first 
and  greatest  attack  upon  them,  the  fiercest 
presentation  of  their  evils  in  literature,  is  this 
novel  of  Charles  Reade. 

This  was  in  1856.  In  1860  he  wrote  a  far 
greater  work  :  "The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth." 
It  is  with  some  hesitation  that  I  class  this 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  181 

work  as  a  novel  of  purpose.  Probably  to 
most  of  us  in  this  country  the  purpose  in  the 
novel  makes  little  appeal ;  and  yet  it  is  clear 
that  the  story  of  Gerard  the  hermit  has  in  it 
more  than  the  suggestion  of  an  attitude 
toward  the  doctrine  of  celibacy  for  devotees, 
and  makes  an  intended  criticism  upon  certain 
ideals  of  asceticism  then  prevalent.  To  us 
now,  to  whom  enforced  celibacy  is  so  rarely 
a  necessity,  the  problem  seems  so  slight  a 
one,  so  far  removed  from  ordinary  thought, 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  book  becomes  of  little 
consequence  when  set  in  contrast  of  comparison 
with  the  art  of  the  book.  Yet  I  think  Charles 
Reade  wrote  it  inspired  by  a  purpose.  Possi- 
bly he  builded  better  than  he  knew.  Cer- 
tainly the  work  is  his  greatest  work,  and  it 
is  that  one  of  his  works  which  is  least  com- 
bative in  tone  and  least  definitely  written 
toward  a  purpose.  Possibly  the  spirit  of  the 
mediaeval  time  in  the  days  of  the  twilight  of 
the  Middle  Ages  softened  the  furious  zeal 
of  Charles  Reade  himself  as  he  wrote  of  it. 
Possibly  his  own  story  of  the  gradual  trans- 
formation of  the  love  of  Gerard  and  Margaret 


182     EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

into  completest  abnegation  influenced  Reade 
himself,  so  that  he,  the  victim  of  a  cloister, 
found  a  higher  solution  of  his  problem  than  the 
one  which  his  first  zeal  suggested.  Possibly 
all  this  is  true ;  certain  it  is  that  it  is  his 
greatest  novel,  and  it  is  the  one  which  is,  all 
things  considered,  least  a  novel  of  purpose. 

Yet  his  other  novels  were  at  first  more  suc- 
cessful. He  wrote  two  —  "Hard  Cash"  and 
"  Put  Yourself  in  His  Place" — vigorous  enough 
in  their  purposeful  motives  to  claim  record 
here.  "Hard  Cash"  was  published  in  1863. 
It  is  the  most  severe,  relentless,  inspiring  ex- 
position of  the  potentiality  of  oppression  which 
may  exist  in  a  private  lunatic  asylum  that 
has  ever  been  written.  It  ended  the  irrespon- 
sible private  asylum  in  England,  and  it  made 
the  treatment  of  the  insane  by  severity  well- 
nigh  an  impossibility  in  any  asylum,  public  or 
private.  Seven  years  after,  Charles  Reade,  at 
fifty-six,  wrote  "Put  Yourself  in  His  Place," 
his  last  novel  of  purpose.  We  are  in  the 
habit,  I  think,  of  considering  it  as  an  arraign- 
ment of  trade-unions;  and  it  is  true  that 
some  of  the  cowardly  and  inhuman  methods 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  183 

which  some  English  trade-unions  have  on 
particular  occasions  resorted  to  are  shown 
forth  in  its  pages.  But  its  purpose  seems  to 
me  larger  than  that  of  the  presentation  of  the 
evils  of  any  specific  method.  In  it  Charles 
Reade,  the  born  combatant,  deprecates  the  com- 
bative spirit.  In  it  the  fighter  of  a  generation 
pleads  for  sympathy  of  capital  with  labor.  It 
is  too  early  yet  to  estimate  its  influence.  Prob- 
ably it  never  was  so  direct  and  definite  a 
force  as  "Hard  Cash"  and  "Never  Too  Late 
to  Mend."  The  years  since  the  fifties  have 
brought  other  changes  than  the  material  ones 
which  come  so  constantly  before  our  notice. 
In  these  somewhat  later  days  downrightness 
of  solution  of  a  problem  is  apt  to  be  tempered 
with  a  certain  cautiousness  of  statement.  The 
questions  do  not  seem  to  be  so  simple  as  they 
appeared  in  the  days  of  the  Chartists.  To 
Charles  Kingsley  in  1848,  it  seemed  that  half  a 
dozen  political  reforms  would  end  the  miseries 
of  the  working-man.  But  we  have  all  those 
reforms  now  ;  and  yet  the  problems  of  labor 
and  of  life  are  more,  rather  than  less,  perplex- 
ing.    So  we  are  apt  now  to  turn  away  from 


184     EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

the  quick  and  absolute  solution  ;  so  the  down- 
right, categoric  answer  to  the  problem  of  life 
satisfies  us  less  and  less  easily.  This  genera- 
tion prefers  the  method  of  a  Dean  Stanley  to 
that  of  a  Charles  Kingsley,  and  the  method  of 
a  Bryce  to  that  of  a  Charles  Reade.  It  may 
be  that  the  best  day  of  the  method  had  passed 
when  "Put  Yourself  in  His  Place"  was  written. 
It  is  true  that  its  direct  influence  is  not  easily 
to  be  traced.  But  as  a  whole  the  three 
novels  we  have  named  were  works  of  force 
and  of  effectiveness  ;  and  Reade,  the  strenuous, 
will  undoubtedly  be  remembered  as  one  of  the 
moving  influences  of  his  day. 

There  are  two  groups  of  purpose-novels  of 
the  same  period  as  those  heretofore  discussed, 
and  one  small  group  of  much  later  date  that 
may  properly  claim  our  attention  for  a  moment. 
The  first  group  is  composed  of  portions  of  sev- 
eral novels  of  Dickens  :  "  Martin  Chuzzlewit," 
"Nicholas  Nickleby,"  and  "Bleak  House," 
which  are  definite  enough  in  suggestions  for 
the  reform  of  boys'  schools,  of  courts  of  law, 
of  asylums,  and  of  social  abuses,  to  warrant 
mention  in  this  list  of  novels  of  purpose.     If  I 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  185 

do  not  now  discuss  these  at  length,  it  is  rather 
because  they  are  so  familiar  as  not  to  need 
mention,  than  because  they  do  not  properly 
stand  in  the  list  of  works  we  are  considering. 
It  may  be  truly  said  of  them  that,  while  the 
purposeful  intention  is  marked,  it  is  yet  shown 
only  in  certain  portions  of  each  of  the  works 
rather  than  in  the  complete  and  entire  design 
of  the  whole.  Yet  I  doubt  if  it  can  be  truly 
said  that  these  purpose-episodes  weaken  the 
works  as  effective  novels,  however  much  we 
may  wish  to  quarrel  with  them  on  purely 
artistic  grounds.  Certainly,  one  cannot  skip 
these  episodes  or  chapters,  even  now,  in  read- 
ing the  novels.  Beyond  a  doubt  they  had 
influence  in  effecting  reform ;  they  are  indeed 
as  truly  a  part  of  the  history  of  certain  reforms 
as  they  are  a  part  of  the  history  of  the  novel 
of  purpose.  The  second  group  consists  of  two 
works,  the  "  Man  and  Wife  "  of  Wilkie  Collins 
and  the  "Hannah"  of  Mrs.  Dinah  Mulock 
Craik.  These  works  are  clearly  intended  to 
set  forth  the  difficulties  of  the  marriage  laws, 
"  Man  and  Wife "  being  specifically  directed 
against  the  Scotch  common  law  marriage,  and 


186  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

"Hannah"  being  a  presentation  of  the  "de- 
ceased wife's  sister"  marriage  difficulty.  I 
think  it  will  be  urged  that  these  novels  are 
not  of  a  high  order  of  literary  excellence ;  it 
is  certainly  difficult,  also,  to  trace  the  influence 
they  exerted  upon  public  sentiment  respecting 
the  alleged  evils  of  which  they  treated;  and  I 
therefore  dismiss  them  with  this  brief  mention. 
The  third  group  is  made  up  of  certain  recent 
novels,  such  as  the  "John  Ward,  Preacher" 
of  Mrs.  Deland,  and  the  "Robert  Elsmere" 
and  the  "  Marcella "  of  Mrs.  Humphry  Ward. 
If  I  pass  these  with  little  comment,  it  is  partly 
because  they  are  too  recent  for  unbiassed  study, 
and  partly  because  they  are  rather  novels  of 
problem  than  novels  of  purpose.  They  are 
rather  studious  than  dogmatic;  rather  in- 
quiries than  sermons.  They  seem  to  be 
more  akin  to  records  of  investigations,  to 
studies  in  search  of  a  remedy,  than  are  any 
of  the  earlier  works.  To  discuss  them  would 
lead  us  too  far  from  the  subject,  for  they 
are  purposeful  novels  rather  than  novels  of 
purpose. 

So  much,   then,   of  description.      It  seems 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  187 

clear  that  if  we  confine  ourselves  to  works  of 
an  established  reputation,  we  can  find  in  the 
whole  range  of  English  literature  something 
less  than  a  score  of  novels  of  purpose  ;  that 
we  shall  find  them  to  have  been  written  in  a 
definitely  defined  period,  —  the  class  appearing 
about  the  middle  of  this  century,  characteristic 
of  its  third  quarter,  not  specially  in  evidence 
in  the  final  years  of  the  century;  that  we 
shall  find  the  group  to  be  a  small  one,  in 
manner  a  limited  one,  showing  no  great  evi- 
dence of  continuity  and  permanence  of  form. 
Yet  it  will  not  do  to  dismiss  this  group  of 
novels  with  a  word  of  patronizing  deprecation. 
These  novels  are  too  forceful,  too  strong,  too 
important  historically,  to  be  left  to  pass  with 
a  slighting  reference.  Whatever  we  may  say 
as  to  the  artistic  rank,  theoretically,  of  novels 
of  purpose,  these  novels  belong  in  the  record 
of  the  history  of  the  novel,  and  any  theory  of 
novel-construction  which  takes  no  account  of 
them  is  incomplete. 

But  in  studying  these  novels  three  things 
have  been  forced  upon  my  notice.  In  the 
first   place,   these    novels,   great    as   they   are, 


188  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

have  been  out-passed  in  almost  every  in- 
stance by  some  greater  work  of  the  same 
author.  "Uncle  Tom's  Cabin"  is  probably 
Mrs.  Stowe's  greatest  work,  though  "The 
Minister's  Wooing"  is  of  equal  artistic  rank 
in  the  opinion  of  some  critics.  But  aside 
from  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  there  is  no  one,  I 
think,  of  the  distinctly  purpose-novels  which 
ranks  as  the  best  of  its  author's  productions. 
We  do  not  remember  Turgenieff  so  much 
for  his  "Annals  of  a  Sportsman"  as  for  his 
"  Fathers  and  Sons,"  or  his  "  Virgin  Soil "  ; 
it  is  not  the  "  Hannah  "  of  Mrs.  Dinah  Mulock 
Craik  which  is  the  masterpiece,  but  the  "  John 
Halifax  "  ;  it  is  to  "  Cranford "  rather  than  to 
"Mary  Barton"  that  Mrs.  Gaskell  will  look 
for  immortality ;  it  is  hardly  "  Felix  Holt "  or 
the  suggestions  of  purpose  in  "Daniel  Deronda" 
that  we  recall  when  the  name  of  George  Eliot 
.comes  into  our  mind,  but  rather  "Middle- 
march,"  "Mill  on  the  Floss,"  "Adam  Bede"; 
it  is  not,  I  think,  the  purpose-episodes  in  the 
novels  of  Dickens  that  are  the  strongest  pages ; 
it  is  the  "  Moonstone "  or  the  "  Woman  in 
White,"  rather  than  "Man  and  Wife"  that  will 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PUBPOSB  189 

give  Wilkie  Collins  enduring  fame;  Charles 
Reade  will  be  remembered  rather  for  the 
"  Cloister  and  the  Hearth,"  than  for  "  Never 
Too  Late  to  Mend " ;  the  masterpiece  of 
Charles  Kingsley  is  not  "Alton  Locke,"  but 
"  Hypatia."  It  appears  that  the  novel  of  pur- 
pose is  difficult ;  even  the  master  cannot  frame 
out  of  such  material  his  greatest  work.  It  is 
fused  out  of  refractory  material  into  such 
unity  as  it  gets.  In  the  second  place,  it  seems 
that  almost  without  exception  these  novels  are 
compelled  by  great  emotional  arousement.  It 
was  an  aroused  American  people  that  laid  its 
compelling  hand  on  Mrs.  Stowe ;  it  was  an 
aroused  working-class,  thronging  to  meetings, 
hot  with  fierce  desire,  that  laid  a  compelling 
hand  on  Charles  Kingsley.  The  novel  of  pur- 
pose is  fused  into  unity  out  of  these  refrac- 
tory materials  only  by  the  heat  of  emotion. 
In  the  third  place,  it  appears  that  the  great 
novel  of  definite  purpose  is  not  only  com- 
pelled by  the  emotion  of  the  day,  it  is  written 
out  of  the  hot  emotion  of  the  writer.  Indeed, 
it  often  is  written  in  the  day  of  his  emotional 
life  rather  than  in  the  day  of  his  artistic  ma- 


190    EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

turity.  It  appeared  as  we  went  through  the 
list  of  these  books  that  many  of  them  were 
the  earlier  works  of  their  writers.  "Alton 
Locke "  precedes  "  Hypatia " ;  "  Annals  of  a 
Sportsman  "  precedes  "  Fathers  and  Sons " ; 
"Mary  Barton"  precedes  "Cranford"  ;  "Never 
Too  Late  to  Mend "  precedes  the  "  Cloister 
and  the  Hearth."  The  great  novel  of  pur- 
pose is  written  out  of  the  hot  heat  of  emo- 
tion, in  a  day  of  emotion ;  it  demands  much 
of  writer,  it  demands  much  of  reader.  It  may 
be  that  its  apparent  decadence  is  due  to  the 
fact  that  it  is  too  difficult  a  form  rather  than 
too  inartistic  a  method. 

Yet  I  have  said  its  "apparent"  decadence 
advisedly,  for,  however  appearances  may  seem 
to  indicate  that  the  novel  of  purpose  is  gone, 
however  few  complete  examples  of  such  type 
can  be  found  at  the  present  day,  it  is  not  quite 
safe  to  predict  the  passing  of  the  purpose  novel. 
Certainly,  it  will  not  be  a  priori  probable  that 
this  form  of  novel  should  pass,  for  this  cen- 
tury grows  more,  rather  than  less,  purposeful. 
It  is  a  day  of  rapid  accomplishment;  it  is 
a  day  of  purpose  in  action.     The  progress  of 


THE  NOVEL  OP  PURPOSE  191 

political  and  social  events  is  a  daily  ethical 
lesson.  No  more  can  the  artist  than  the  states- 
man be  for  a  long  period  simply  the  idle  singer 
of  an  empty  day.  It  is  of  days  gone  by  and 
not  of  the  passing  hours  that  Matthew  Arnold 
sings:  — 

"In  summer  on  the  highlands 

The  Baltic  sea  along, 
Sits  Neckan  with  his  harp  of  gold 

And  smgs  his  plaintive  song." 

To-day  our  dramas  are  subjective,  our  novels 
are  introspective.  We  consider,  study,  and  re- 
flect; we  do  not  idly  dream  on  summer  banks 
our  leisure  days  away.  So,  in  theory,  it  is  not 
in  accordance  with  the  habit  of  the  time  that 
purpose  should  pass  out  of  novels,  nor  is  it  in 
accordance  with  what  we  have  observed  of  the 
history  of  the  novel  that  the  purposeful  type 
should  pass  away.  For  we  have  found  that  the 
novel  continues  growing  in  seriousness,  in  re- 
gard for  its  own  construction,  in  regard  for 
truthfulness,  in  regard  for  relation  to  life, 
in  regard  for  completeness  of  representation. 
If  it  depicts  life,  we  shall  expect  it  to  have 
regard    also    to    that    three-quarters    of    life 


192     EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

which  is  called  conduct.  That  the  novel  of 
purpose  should  disappear  js  theoretically  im- 
probable, if  not  impossible. 

And  so  it  would  be  improbable,  if  not  impos- 
sible, if  each  step  in  an  evolution  were  an  end, 
and  each  form  of  apparent  completeness  were 
a  final  form.  But  this  study  of  certain 
phases  of  the  novel  has  shown  continually  the 
passing  from  one  method  of  expression  to  a 
later  and  a  completer.  In  the  first  chapter  I 
tried  to  show  that  there  was  one  law  of  devel- 
opment which  seemed  to  apply  with  especial 
definiteness  to  the  novel.  The  procedure  seemed 
to  be  from  the  body  to  the  soul;  from  the  depic- 
tion of  the  external  fact  to  the  searching  out  of 
the  internal  relation;  from  the  expression  of 
power  to  the  secret  of  power;  from  the  appli- 
cation of  external  remedy  to  the  searching  out 
of  the  hidden  cause.  In  the  novel  of  social 
life,  we  found  that  the  novel  went  from  the  de- 
piction of  the  personage  to  the  setting  forth  of 
character ;  from  the  mere  outlining  of  a  figure 
in  action  to  the  presenting  of  individuality 
or  of  personality;  from  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field  to   Hester   Prynne.      In   the    historical 


THE  NOVEL  OF  PURPOSE  193 

novel  we  went  from  the  description  of  move- 
ment, from  the  rush,  the  action,  the  circum- 
stance, to  the  presentation  of  that  soul  struggle 
which  inspired  or  made  important  the  out- 
ward action  ;  from  the  "  Kenil worth  "  to  the 
"  Henry  Esmond."  In  the  romantic  novel, 
we  found  development,  from  the  stories  of 
external  adventure — improbable,  unreasonable, 
unearthly  —  to  the  exploration  —  eager,  intense, 
searching  —  of  the  human  soul;  from  Walpole's 
"  Castle  of  Otranto"  to  Hugo's  "Notre  Dame." 
In  all  we  found  one  trend  of  development  — 
from  the  body  to  the  soul.  So  it  may  be  that 
the  novel  of  purpose  has  not  passed,  but  that 
it  is  with  us  in  completer  form  in  the  novel 
of  problem,  in  the  novel  which  does  not  set 
forth  a  specific  remedy,  but  which  searches  for 
the  hidden  disease.  It  is  not  that  the  notion 
of  relief  is  gone ;  it  is  not  that  the  interest  in 
the  difficulties  of  life  is  gone  ;  it  is  rather  that 
the  insistence  upon  a  specified  and  particular 
form  of  cure  seems  to  the  artist  crude,  and  that 
the  novel  has  gone  on  past  the  practitioner's 
dealing  of  specific  doses  to  the  scientist's  inves- 
tigation of  the  problems  of  life.     So,  where  a 


194  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Charles  Reade  or  a  Kingsley  had  a  patent  rem- 
edy for  a  social  evil,  a  Mrs.  Ward  or  a  Tolstoi 
gives  us  the  record  of  a  search  for  a  remedy. 
The  purpose  is  no  longer  crudely  in  the  novel, 
it  is  in  every  word  of  the  author.  The  novel 
has  gone  down  deeper  into  the  problem.  It  is 
searching  out  the  hidden  ills  of  life;  it  is  feel- 
ing earnestly  for,  rather  than  rashly  prescribing, 
a  cure.  If  the  novel  of  purpose  has  passed,  the 
purposeful  novel  has  come.  The  novel  of  the 
future  may  not  be  the  novel  of  purpose.  But 
the  novel  of  the  future  will  be  written  out  of 
soul  travail;  it  will  be  hot  with  aroused  and 
compelling  emotion;  it  will  be  toward  a  pur- 
pose because  it  will  be  the  work  of  a  purposeful 
man. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION 

It  is  in  a  specific  sense  that  I  shall  use  the 
term  modern  in  writing  of  the  modern  novel 
and  its  mission.  All  novels  are  modern  ; 
hardly  a  score  of  really  important  examples 
antedate  the  present  century.  We  look  back 
only  to  1720  and  1726  when  we  look  at 
"  Robinson  Crusoe  "  and  "  Gulliver's  Travels," 
the  forerunners  of  the  true  novel.  We  look 
back  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  to  1740, 
1748,  1749,  and  1759  when  we  search  for  the 
first  real  English  novels,  —  the  "  Pamela  "  of 
Richardson,  the  "Roderick  Random"  of  Smol- 
lett, the  "Tom  Jones"  of  Fielding,  and  the 
"Tristram  Shandy"  of  Sterne.  The  fact  of 
the  novel  is  a  modern  fact. 

But  more  than  this,  as  we  have  seen  before, 
the  conditions  necessary  for  and  consonant 
with  the  production  of  the  novel  are  modern 
195 


196  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

conditions.  The  rigid  distinction  between 
truth  and  fiction  in  narration  is  a  modern 
notion  ;  in  Shakespeare's  day  the  "  History  "  of 
Holinshed  was  in  many  places  as  fictitious  as 
the  romance  of  "Arcadia."  The  notion  of 
plot  as  an  articulation  of  actions,  incidents, 
and  thoughts  into  such  a  connected  whole  as 
shall  present  a  nucleus  of  action,  character,  or 
emotion,  is  a  modern  notion  in  fiction  ;  and 
this  notion  of  plot  is  at  the  basis  of  the  con- 
struction of  the  novel.  The  assertion  of 
individuality  in  private  life  as  a  thing  of 
importance  and  value  is  a  modern  notion  ;  and 
this  assertion  of  individuality  as  a  thing  of 
importance  and  value  is  an  assertion  under- 
lying the  novel.  In  theory  as  well  as  in 
fact,  the  novel  belongs  to  modern  life.  It 
could  not  have  existed  before  the  Reforma- 
tion ;  it  could  not  have  flourished  greatly 
had  not  absolute  monarchies  given  place  to 
sovereignty  of  the  people.  The  utterance  of 
the  novel  is  of  the  modern  day,  and  is  the 
voice  of  modernness  by  its  very  nature. 

It   is,  therefore,  in  a  special   and  technical, 
rather  than  in  a  general,  sense  that  I  use  the 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      197 

term  modem.  I  mean  by  it  not  only  the 
later  novel,  the  novel  which  appears  to-day, 
but  also  the  novel  which  speaks  of  and  speaks 
for  the  life  of  to-day  —  the  novel  of  this  gen- 
eration, which  speaks  of  and  speaks  for  men 
now  living.  Concerning  this  modern  novel 
I  wish  to  ask  the  questions :  What  mission  has 
it  ?  In  the  literature  of  the  hour  what  place 
has  this  novel ;  in  the  utterance  of  the  day, 
what  relative  importance  is  to  be  given  to 
this  specific  form  of  expression  ;  in  the  litera- 
ture of  the  future,  what  special  claim  can  this 
form  make  to  recognition  ?  I  shall  answer  these 
questions  by  a  consideration :  of  the  means 
by  which  the  novel  has  obtained  its  present 
vogue ;  of  the  relation  in  which  it  now  stands 
to  other  forms  of  utterance ;  of  its  specific 
claims  to  eminence  ;  of  the  tendencies  markedly 
shown  in  it ;   and  of  its  opportunity. 

And  first  then :  How  has  the  novel  obtained 
its  present  vogue  ?  Certainly  the  slightest 
study  of  past  conditions  shows  that  the  novel 
has  fought  its  way  against  a  prejudice.  It  is 
but  a  few  years  since  apologies  for  putting 
this   or  that  study  of    life   into   the   form   of 


198     EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

a  novel  have  disappeared  from  the  prefaces. 
It  is  but  a  generation  since  clergymen  advised 
their  peoples  against  the  reading  of  novels, 
and  since  the  writing  of  a  novel  by  an 
eminent  clergyman  of  Brooklyn  startled  many 
earnest  men.  The  novel  has  worked  its  way 
through  the  prejudices  of  booksellers  as  well 
as  of  the  public.  It  has  pushed  itself  up  into 
recognition  against  a  steady  prejudice.  It  has 
so  pushed  itself  up  that  a  clergyman  leaves 
the  ministry  to  take  up  the  profession  of  a 
writer  of  fiction  without  our  feeling  that  he 
is  necessarily  thereby  lessening  his  power  for 
good;  and  a  novelist  does  not  surprise  us, 
even  if  he  does  not  convince  us,  when  he 
maintains  that  the  novel  is  the  most  powerful 
ethical  teacher  of  the  day. 

It  is  to  be  noted,  again,  that  the  novel  has 
made  its  way,  not  only  against  a  prejudice,  but 
entirely  without  external  assistance.  Other 
forms  of  literature  have  come  into  existence 
under  patronage.  The  drama  in  Greece  was 
fostered  by  state  patronage,  as  the  opera  is 
to-day  in  European  countries.  The  trouba- 
dours  and  the  trouveres,   maintained  by  the 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      199 

favor  of  the  courts,  sung  the  ballads.  The 
epics  which  have  come  down  to  us  voiced  a 
nation's  glory  and  were  fostered  by  a  nation's 
pride.  But  no  paid  poets  have  made  the 
novel;  no  nation's  pride  has  been  appealed  to 
by  the  novel.  No  patronage  of  state  or  court 
has  ever  fostered  it.  It  has  not  even  had  the 
assistance  of  a  special  form  of  utterance,  as 
had  the  drama,  as  had  the  epic,  as  had  the  lyric 
romance.  It  has  pushed  itself  quietly,  against 
a  prejudice,  telling  a  plain  tale  in  plain  prose. 
And  it  is  to  be  noted  further  that  the  novel 
has  made  its  way  against  a  prejudice  and  with- 
out assistance  while  speaking  of  things  them- 
selves apparently  of  minor  import.  The  great 
dramas,  the  great  romances,  the  great  epics, 
have  told  us  the  deeds,  the  actions,  of  great 
men,  of  kings,  of  princes;  or  of  great  eras  in 
a  nation's  history ;  or  of  great  crises  in  a 
nation's  life.  The  message  that  they  bring 
gains  some  importance  because  connected 
with  great  events.  But  the  novel  rarely 
deals  with  kings  and  queens ;  perhaps  a  novel 
never  could  be  written  concerning  itself  with 
the  love  affairs  of  any  existing  monarchs :  the 


200  EVOLUTION  OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

novel  deals  with  matters  apparently  of  lesser 
import,  with  matters  belonging  to  a  private 
individual,  belonging  to  domestic  life,  belong- 
ing to  the  lighter  and  more  trifling  uses  of  the 
life  of  an  individual. 

In  the  fourth  place,  the  novel  has  made  its 
way  in  a  large  measure  by  an  assertion  of 
the  superiority  of  that  which  is  apparently  a 
weaker  and  a  lesser  part  of  life,  namely,  emo- 
tion. (For  the  novel  does  not  stand  in  literary 
history  as  a  record  of  achievement.  It  stands 
as  a  record  of  emotion,  j  Yet  in  political  and 
social  history  the  things  we  have  been  accus- 
tomed to  think  the  great  things  are  the  things 
that  have  been  achieved.  We  admire  the  man 
of  achievement.  We  respect  the  nations  who 
have  achieved.  The  records  of  achievement 
and  the  portrayal  of  achievement  might  be 
expected  to  hold  first  and  final  place.  But 
the  novel  passes  by  these  to  assert,  apparently, 
that  the  important  time  of  life  is  not  the  time 
of  action  but  the  time  of  emotion ;  that  love, 
not  achievement,  is  the  important  thing  in  liv- 
ing. It  seems  to  put  emphasis  on  that  which 
we   should   at   first   say   was   the   less    impor- 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND   ITS   MISSION      201 

tant  thing  of  life ;  to  depict  the  occurrences 
of  that  which  we  should  say  was  the  less 
important  period  of  life;  and  to  urge  us  to 
accept  a  lesser  portrayal  in  place  of  a  greater 
one. 

So  the  novel  has  pushed  its  way,  against  a 
prejudice,  without  a  helper,  without  the  at- 
traction of  great  subject,  and  against  our 
first  notion  of  fitness  of  treatment ;  it  has 
pushed  itself  forward  into  an  assertion  of  a 
great  principle.  It  has  made  its  way  into 
the  assertion  that  emotion,  that  love,  is  the  fit 
copartner  of  high  action.  The  novel  depicts 
love  and  life.  And  it  depicts  the  time  of  love 
in  a  life,  the  emotional  day,  the  aroused  inter- 
est, as  the  time,  the  day,  the  interest,  most 
important.  It  asserts  that  the  emotional 
period  in  life  is  the  great  period  of  life.  Not 
at  all  in  the  high  sense  in  which  the  Scrip- 
tures say  that  "God  is  love,"  but  in  a  lower 
fashion,  not  less  earnest,  the  novel  says  that 
life  is  love,  and  that  life  without  desire  so 
high  and  so  intense  as  to  claim  the  name  of 
love  is  no  true  life. 

Such  have  been  the  means  by  which  the 


202     EVOLUTION   OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

novel  has  come  to  its  present  vogue.  As  we 
glance  through  them  they  seem  to  be  the 
methods  by  which  permanent  things  grow. 
It  has  seemed  to  be  true  in  the  history  of  de- 
velopment that  permanent  things  come  quietly 
and  slowly  into  the  assertion  of  a  right  to  life. 
This  has  been  the  history  of  the  progress  of 
the  novel.  It  seems  to  be  the  method  of  a 
development  into  a  permanent  form.  There 
is  some  reason  for  the  expectation  that  the 
form  which  comes  in  such  a  manner  will  be 
potent  as  well  as  permanent. 

In  what  relation,  then,  does  the  novel  now 
stand  to  other  forms  of  utterance  ?  In  the 
study  of  literary  history  we  can  easily  find 
evidence  that  the  novel  has  supplanted  some 
forms  of  literature  and  has  surpassed  others. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  it  has  supplanted  two 
great  forms  of  literature,  —  the  epic  and  the 
romance  ;  it  has  surpassed  three  great  forms 
of  literature,  —  the  drama,  lyric  poetry,  the 
essay.  If  we  look  at  the  literature  of  tliis 
nineteenth  century  we  look  in  vain  for  a  great 
epic  poem,  and  yet  the  epic  form  is  one  of  the 
earliest  forms,  and  one  of  the  greatest  forms. 


THE  MODERN   NOVEL   AND  ITS   MISSION      203 

of  poetical  expression.  In  literature  there  is 
no  great  nation  which  has  not  had  its  epic. 
In  Hindoo  literature,  the  Rdmdyana  and  the 
Mahd-hhdratd ;  in  Persian,  the  Shah-nameh, 
Firdusi's  great  epic  of  the  kings  ;  in  Finnish 
literature,  the  Kalevala,  from  which  Long- 
fellow took  his  "Hiawatha"  motive  and  metre  ; 
in  Portuguese,  the  Os  Lusiadas ;  in  Spanish 
literature,  the  Cid ;  in  Italian  literature,  the 
Orlando  Furioso  and  the  Gerusalemme  Libe- 
rata ;  in  English  literature,  the  "  Beowulf " 
and  the  "Paradise  Lost."  One  needs  not 
to  recount  them  all  to  prove  what  a  great 
vehicle  of  expression  has  been  the  epic  in  the 
past.  It  has  been  not  only  the  expression  of 
the  actions  of  a  people  ;  it  has  been  the  expres- 
sion of  the  emotion  of  an  age.  If  we  go  back 
to  a  single  period  in  German  literary  history, 
to  the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  we 
find  those  two  great  epics  of  the  people,  the 
Nihelungenlied  and  the  Gudrun,  classics  to-day 
because  they  voiced  the  emotion  of  a  nation. 
And  the  same  period  gives  us  the  Rolands- 
lied  of  Priest  Konrad,  the  Ereck  and  Ber 
arme    Heinrich    of    Hartmann    von    Aue,   the 


204     EVOLUTION   OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Tristan  of  Gottfried  von  Strassburg,  and  the 
Parzival  of  Wolfram  voii  Eschenbach.  In 
mediaeval  history,  in  ancient  history,  in  the 
literary  history  of  past  peoples,  the  epic  has 
had  a  notable  place.  But  as  compared  with 
the  novel  the  epic  does  not  exist  to-day.  The 
last  great  English  epics  were  the  "Paradise 
Lost "  in  poetry,  and  Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress  "  in  prose.  And  the  epical  poems  of 
to-day, — Longfellow's  "Golden  Legend,"  Mat- 
thew Arnold's  "Tristan  and  Iseult,"  Morris's 
*'  Lovers  of  Gudrun "  and  "  Sigurd  the  Vol- 
sung,"  Tennyson's  "  Idylls  of  the  King,"  Wag- 
ner's epical  dramas  of  Tristan  und  Isolde^  and 
Parzival^  —  all  these  look  back  to  this  German 
mediaeval  source  for  their  inspiration,  their 
spirit,  and  their  potency.  The  epic  is  of  the 
past  and  the  novel  is  of  the  present. 

And  equally  true  is  it  that  the  novel  has 
succeeded  to,  and  perhaps  in  some  real  sense 
supplanted,  another  great  form  of  literary  ex- 
pression,—  the  romance.  We  sometimes  look 
to  the  romance  as  the  direct  forerunner  of  the 
novel ;  and  it  is  true  that  a  certain  line  of 
analogy  between  the  method  of  the  romance 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND   ITS  MISSION      205 

and  the  method  of  the  novel  can  be  drawn. 
But  it  is  rather  true  that  the  novel  has  suc- 
ceeded to,  and  has  supplanted,  the  romance, 
than  that  it  has  developed  out  of  the  romance. 
In  thus  succeeding  to  and  supplanting,  it  has 
outpassed  a  very  great  form  of  literary  expres- 
sion. I  need  not  recount  the  whole  story  of 
the  romance.  It  will  serve  to  run  over  briefly 
the  titles  of  the  romances  of  a  single  period 
and  a  single  nation, — the  mediaeval  period  of 
the  twelfth  and  thirteenth  centuries,  and  the 
French  nation.  We  recall  the  romances  of 
chivalry  :  the  Chanson  de  Roland^  the  Amis 
et  Amiles,  and  the  hundreds  of  others  pub- 
lished in  the  Bihliotheque  des  Romans ;  the 
classical  romances — the  Chanson  d^ Alexandre, 
the  Roman  de  Troie,  the  Roman  d'EnSas ;  the 
fables,  the  great  romance  of  "  Reynard  the 
Fox " ;  and  finally  the  Arthurian  romances 
of  Arthur,  of  the  Holy  Grail,  of  Lancelot,  of 
the  Round  Table,  given  down  to  us  through 
the  Welsh,  and  through  our  own  English 
Malory  and  our  own  English  Tennyson,  but 
looking  back  to  this  one  period  of  French 
history  for  their  inspiration  and  their  origin. 


206     EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Evidently  the  romance  has  been  a  great  form 
of  literary  expression.  But  in  this  extended 
form  the  romance  is  of  the  past;  the  novel  is 
of  the  present. 

These  two  forms  of  literary  expression  the 
novel  seems  to  have  succeeded  to,  if  not  sup- 
planted. In  the  present  day  it  surpasses 
three  other  forms,  —  the  drama,  poetry,  the 
essay.  Not  indeed  in  the  same  sense  can  it 
be  true  of  the  drama  as  of  the  epic  and  of 
the  romance  that  the  novel  has  supplanted 
it;  for  the  drama  is  an  eternal  form  of  ex- 
pression. The  prediction  might  easily  be 
made  that  a  new  drama  may  arise  which 
shall  far  outweigh  in  power  and  usefulness 
any  such  form  as  the  novel.  And  yet  it 
is  certainly  true  that,  taking  the  literature 
of  to-day  as  it  stands,  weighing  usefulness 
against  usefulness,  the  novel  is  at  the  moment 
more  potent  than  the  drama.  The  great  mes- 
sages, the  great  problems,  are  not  to-day 
voiced  in  the  drama.  If  we  compare  this 
era  with  the  age  of  excellence  of  Greek  liter- 
ature, not  alone  with  the  day  when  Sopho- 
cles,    and     iEschylus,     and    Euripides,     and 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND   ITS  MISSION      207 

Aristophanes  were  writing  hundreds  of 
dramas  of  such  literary  excellence  that  their 
survival  is  a  literary  monument,  but  with 
any  age  of  Greek  literature ;  if  we  compare 
the  dramatic  literature  of  to-day,  not  alone 
with  the  dramatic  literature  of  the  great 
Elizabethan  period,  but  even  with  any  age 
of  English  literature,  —  we  shall,  I  think,  find 
the  contemporary  drama  less  potent  as  a  liter- 
ary vehicle  than  its  predecessors.  The  novel 
seems  to  have  surpassed  the  drama,  though  we 
may  hope  it  never  will  supplant  it. 

The  novel  seems  also  to  have  surpassed 
poetry.  It  is  to  be  deplored,  I  should  main- 
tain, if  it  be  really  true,  that  the  novel  has 
permanently  supplanted  poetry.  But  looking 
at  literature  at  the  moment,  it  would  seem 
that  the  literary  men  and  still  more  the  liter- 
ary women,  of  to-day  are  novelists  rather  than 
poets.  If  we  glance  at  the  list  of  literary  men 
now  writing,  we  seem  to  find  that  the  great 
poets  of  a  generation  ago  have  passed  and 
have  left  few  successors.  Longfellow,  Lowell, 
"Whittier,  in  America ;  Matthew  Arnold, 
Browning,    Tennyson,  in   England,   the    poets 


208  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

of  a  generation  ago,  are  dead,  and  few  poets 
of  the  present  day  are  su,ccessors.  It  would 
appear  that  the  poets  were  of  the  generation 
past,  and  the  novelists  of  the  generation  pres- 
ent. The  immediate  hour  would  seem  to 
belong  to  the  novelist  rather  than  to  the 
poet. 

And,  finally,  the  novel  has  outpassed  its 
brother  of  equal  age,  the  essay.  Space  for 
space,  interest  for  interest,  influence  for  influ- 
ence, a  candid  observer  must  recognize  that 
superiority  at  the  present  day  rests  with  the 
novel  rather  than  the  essay. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  then,  it  appears  that 
the  novel,  having  supplanted  two  great  forms 
of  utterance,  and  having  surpassed  three  great 
forms  of  utterance,  holds  the  foremost  posi- 
tion among  literary  methods  to-day.  As  a 
matter  of  theory,  perhaps,  we  may  without 
much  difficulty  find  reason.  For  the  epic, 
we  may  say,  belongs  to  a  past  age,  and  not 
to  a  present  day.  The  epic  is  the  recital  of 
the  deeds  of  a  single  great  hero  ;  modern  life 
is  a  life  in  which  associations  of  men,  com- 
plex organisms,  rather  than  single  heroes,  are 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      209 

potential.  The  epic  is  the  recital  of  deeds 
of  uncalculating  achievement,  of  deeds  under- 
taken without  consideration  of  reasons,  with- 
out reflection,  without  meditation ;  modern 
life  demands  calculation,  demands  thought, 
demands  consideration  of  adaptation  of  means 
to  ends.  The  epic  is  the  recital  of  the  out- 
ward deeds  of  a  hero,  of  external  action,  of 
physical  prowess ;  the  modern  hero  is  the 
hero  whose  victories  are  the  victories  of  the 
soul,  whose  exploits  are  spiritual  or  intellec- 
tual, whose  field  of  action  is  the  mind.  The 
epic  is  the  story  of  single  action  told  objec- 
tively ;  the  modern  life  is  a  complex  life,  and 
the  telling  of  the  story  of  a  modern  life  is 
the  setting  forth  of  a  tale  of  complex  adjust- 
ment rather  than  of  external  prowess. 

So  it  might  easily  be  said  that  the  epic 
belonged  to  past  life  and  the  novel  belongs 
to  the  present.  In  like  manner,  the  tale  of 
romantic,  chivalric  exploration,  such  as  is  the 
romance,  might  seem  out  of  keeping  with  the 
modern  day  when  we  have  no  undiscovered 
country,  and  scarce  admit  there  may  be  a 
bourne  from  which  a  traveller  may  not  return. 


210  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

And  it  may  be  said,  therefore,  that  the  romance 
is  properly  of  the  past.  So  possibly  this  is  the 
truth.  At  any  rate  the  claim  can  be  made  for 
the  novel,  with  how  much  justice  I  wUl  not 
undertake  to  say,  that  in  the  greatest  novels 
of  to-day  we  have  all  the  value  of  the  epic 
of  the  time  gone  by,  with  this  also  as  the 
modern  note,  that  a  hero  is  a  hero  of  thought, 
of  experience,  or  of  emotion,  rather  than  a  hero 
of  physical  activity  ;  the  claim  can  be  made 
that  we  have  in  the  novel  all  the  value  of  the 
ancient  drama,  with  the  added  excellence  that 
the  strife  takes  place,  not  on  fields  of  physical 
encounter,  but  within  the  breast  of  the  hero; 
and  the  claim  can  be  made  that  we  have  in 
the  modern  novel  all  the  value  of  exploration 
in  the  romance,  with  the  added  excellence  that 
it  is  also  an  exploration  of  the  undiscovered 
regions  of  the  heart. 

It  has  appeared,  then,  as  I  have  run  through 
the  statement  of  the  relative  standing  of  the 
novel  and  of  the  means  by  which  it  has 
attained  its  place,  that  we  have  in  the  novel 
a  form  relatively  important  and  a  form  which 
has  become  important  by  means  which  seem  to 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS   MISSION      211 

suggest  permanence.  And  one  may  now  ask 
the  question  :  What  special  claims  has  this 
modern  novel  —  granting  that  it  has  the  field, 
and  granting  that  it  has  fairly  won  the  field 
—  what  special  claims  has  it  to  recognition  ? 
It  is  not,  I  think,  because  of  any  special  per- 
fection in  its  form  that  the  novel  claims  pre- 
eminence in  our  day.  For  in  the  sense  that 
other  great  methods  of  utterance  have  had 
it,  the  novel  has  not  a  specific,  compelled 
form.  The  epic  could  have  but  one  hero ;  it 
could  have  but  one  single  story  ;  it  must  deal 
with  great  actions  ;  must  picture  a  hero  per- 
forming actions  without  compensation,  with- 
out calculation,  without  selfish  motive.  The 
epic  could  use  only  a  stately  measure  ;  it  was 
a  poetic  form  adapted  to  particular  uses  and 
rigid  in  its  method ;  it  had  limits  below  which 
it  could  not  venture.  So,  also,  the  romance  had 
exploration  laid  upon  it  as  a  duty  and  had  a 
special  material,  a  special  manner.  So,  preemi- 
nently, the  drama  has  had  compulsions  laid 
upon  it,  —  a  compulsion  of  a  limit  in  length, 
of  a  limited  number  of  characters,  of  a  regard 
for   unity  of  time   and   place  and   action  ;    it 


212     EVOLUTION   OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

must  consist  of  so  many  words,  of  so  many 
scenes,  so  many  acts,  involving  about  so  many 
persons,  and  it  could  deal  only  with  such  prob- 
lems as  could  be  portrayed  in  action.  So  has 
lyric  poetry  a  form  fixed  for  it  from  which  it 
can  vary  but  slightly.  But  as  compared  with 
all  these  the  novel  is  free,  the  novel  is  almost 
formless.  It  may  be  brief  or  it  may  be  ex- 
tended ;  it  may  be  written  in  high  literary  Eng- 
lish, or  in  low  Scotch  dialect.  It  may  deal  with 
times  gone  by  or  with  the  commonest  story  of 
the  present  moment.  It  is  not,  I  think,  because 
of  any  specific  perfection  of  form,  of  any  exact 
delimitation  of  scope  and  field,  that  the  novel 
has  excellence.  It  is  rather,  I  should  say,  be- 
cause of  its  freedom  than  because  of  any  exact- 
ness in  its  form  that  it  has  claims  to  eminence. 
Nor,  again,  is  the  novel  preeminent  merely 
or  mainly  because  it  lends  itself  better  than 
any  other  modern  form  to  inductive  presenta- 
tions. True  it  is  that  modern  scientific  study 
is  inductive,  is  experimental,  is  based  upon 
comparison  of  experiences.  And  true  it  is 
that  the  modern  scientific  method  has  laid  a 
heavy  hand  of   compulsion  upon   the   modern 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS   MISSION      213 

literary  worker.  True  it  is  that  modern  art 
work,  no  less  than  modern  scientific  work,  must 
be  more  or  less  inductive  and  experimental  in 
its  method.  All  this  is  true,  and  it  is  also  true 
that  the  novel  does  lend  itself  to  inductive 
presentation  most  easily,  if  one  compares  it 
either  with  the  form-bound  drama,  with  the 
compelled  heroism  of  the  epic,  or  even  with 
poetry.  One  finds  opportunity  in  the  novel  for 
the  inductive  study  of  social  and  personal  con- 
ditions ;  for  the  record  of  investigations  into 
intellectual  and  family  problems.  Yet  it 
would,  I  believe,  be  complimenting  the  modern 
novel  too  highly  should  one  predicate  such  a 
method  as  universal  among  novelists  of  the 
day.  So  far  as  it  is  used  it  is  an  interesting 
indication  of  the  influence  of  scientific  work 
upon  literary  methods.  But  I  cannot  believe 
that  it  is  merely  or  mainly  because  of  this  that 
the  novel  is  preeminent  to-day.  As  I  view  it, 
f  the  main  claim  of  the  novel  to  eminence  is  that 
it  is  a  social  form  of  expression.^  The  one 
great  fact  of  modern  life  is  the  fact  of  great 
communities  made  up  of  individuals  of  diverse 
interests,  diverse  capabilities,  diverse  nationali- 


214  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

ties  ;  and  the  great  problems  of  modern  life 
are  the  social  problems  arisipg  in  these  new, 
vast,  complex,  social  organisms.  It  is  pre- 
cisely with  the  lighter  and  more  external  of 
these  social  problems  that  the  novel  of  man- 
ners deals ;  it  is  precisely  with  the  more  incon- 
gruous of  the  situations  occurring  in  these 
heterogeneous  organizations  that  the  humor- 
ous novel  deals ;  it  is  precisely  with  the  more 
personal,  with  the  more  esoteric,  of  these 
problems  that  the  serious  novel  deals.  The 
novel  interests  because  it  approaches  such 
problems,  such  situations,  always  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  individual.  The  story  under- 
neath may  be  the  social  question,  the  moral 
question,  the  ethical  question ;  on  the  surface 
it  is  a  story  of  one  individual  with  relations 
involving  emotional  arousement  toward  or 
against  another  individual.  The  novel  thus 
is  social,  and  modern  life  is  social.  The  novel 
looks  at  the  society  problems  on  a  level  with 
them,  and  takes  these  problems  as  problems 
of  actual  life.  Hence,  we  study  it  with  sym- 
pathy and  interest.  (  A  good  novel  is  an  induc- 
tive study  in  sociological  biology.: 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      215 

So  much  may  be  said  for  the  claims  which 
the  novel  makes  to  eminence  as  a  method  of 
-^expression.  But  even  with  just  claim  to  pres- 
ent usefulness,  and  even  with  a  history  of 
success  in  surpassing  and  supplanting  other 
forms,  and  even  with  a  promise  of  permanence 
from  the  manner  of  its  development,  the  novel 
could  hardly  be  urged  as  an  important  form, 
were  it  a  completed  form  whose  period  of 
growth  had  stopped.  If,  in  addition,  the  novel 
shows  evidences  of  present  vitality,  and  if  the 
tendencies  it  manifests  at  the  present  day  seem 
to  be  in  the  line  of  an  ascent,  confident  predic- 
tion of  a  future  period  of  usefulness  is  not 
hazardous.  Of  such  promising  tendencies  I 
shall  name  three  which  seem  to  me  important : 
a  tendency  in  the  novel  to  differentiate  into 
special  forms;  a  tendency  toward  the  treat- 
ment of  serious  problems  at  once  difficult  and 
important;  a  tendency  toward  earnestness  of 
manner.  I  have  named  three  tendencies,  but 
I  might  almost  sum  them  up  under  one  word 
of  characterization  and  say  that  the  modern 
novel  shows  a  tendency  to  become  scientific. 
For  certain  it  is,  as  we  have  seen,  that  a  heavy 


216     EVOLUTION   OP  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

hand  of  compulsion  has  been  laid  by  science 
upon  literature.  The  demand  that  the  meth- 
ods that  have  proved  useful  in  scientific  study- 
shall  become  the  methods  of  usefulness  even  in 
literature,  in  art,  in  poetry,  is  a  demand  not  to 
be  resisted.  If  the  novelist  is  to  live,  seems 
to  be  the  dictum  of  this  scientific  generation, 
the  novel  must  become  scientific,  and  these 
three  tendencies  seem  to  be  the  reply  of  the 
novel  to  this  demand  of  science.  It  is  in 
answer  to  such  demand  that  the  novel  seems 
to  be  becoming  serious  in  character,  serious 
in  subject,  and  serious  in  treatment. 

That  it  has  become  serious  in  character  is 
shown  in  that  it  has,  in  these  later  years, 
assumed  an  exactness  of  fidelity  to  type.  The 
novels  that  appear  to-day  can  be  classified  as 
novels  of  this  or  that  or  another  specific  class 
almost  as  rigidly  as  can  works  of  science.  In 
the  last  few  years  perhaps  a  score  of  novels 
have  been  temporarily  famous.  Any  reader 
can  make  a  list  for  himself.  If  he  will  do 
so  I  am  sure  that  one  characteristic  will  at 
once  strike  him.  It  is  that  each  one  of  these 
novels  belongs,  not  only  to  the  general  cate- 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      217 

gory  of  novels,  but  also  to  a  specific  category 
of  a  kind  of  novel  easily  determined  by  the 
reader.  Each  one  of  these  novels  has  a  cer- 
tain personality,  a  certain  character.  They 
are  not  merely  love  stories.  The  element  of 
love  as  a  motive  is  almost  entirely  absent  in  at 
least  one-quarter,  and  is  the  dominant  motive 
in  less  than  one-half.  The  novel  form  seems 
to  have  obtained,  or  be  tending  toward  the 
obtaining,  of  a  consistent  character  of  its  own 
so  complete  that  it  can  use  other  motives  than 
a  single  one.  The  tendency  is,  I  believe,  in 
the  modern  novel  toward  the  differentiation 
into  specific  types  of  expression;  into  the  de- 
velopment of  a  novel-form  as  a  means  for 
presenting  an  illustration  of  a  principle,  —  a 
study  of  a  religious,  or  personal,  or  ethical, 
or  social  condition  in  such  a  fashion  that  the 
presentation  shall  have  a  distinct  character  of 
its  own.  If  this  be  a  true  statement  of  the 
tendency  of  the  modern  novel,  it  indicates  that 
it  is  obtaining  a  seriousness  of  character.  It 
is  obtaining  it  in  answer  to  a  demand  from 
without  and  from  within.  From  without,  that 
is,  from  the  public,  because  mankind  demands 


218  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

in  anything  to  which  it  shall  give  recogni- 
tion as  a  permanent  form  of  art,  that  it  shall 
show  conformity  to  a  certain  type-form.  We 
demand  of  our  horses  that  they  be  of  a  par- 
ticular kind  or  breed;  we  demand  of  our  dogs 
that  they  be  true  to  a  type,  —  that  they  be 
setters,  or  pointers,  or  mastiffs,  or  beagles, 
or  collies.  So  in  the  literary  world  there 
is  a  demand  in  respect  of  the  novel  that  it 
be  true  to  a  type  of  novel;  and  the  present 
tendency  is  in  answer  to  such  demand.  The 
novel  is  assuming  a  specific  form  in  answer, 
also,  to  a  demand  from  within,  from  the  artist 
himself.  Because,  apparently,  the  writer  is 
coming  to  believe  in  this  form  of  art.  In  so 
far  as  this  is  true,  it  is  an  indication  of  the 
development  of  a  literary  character  and  per- 
sonality in  the  novel,  and,  so  far  as  it  goes, 
suggests  the  probability  that  the  novel  is  a 
permanent  form  of  literature. 

The  second  tendency  in  the  modern  novel  is 
toward  the  treatment  of  serious  problems,  at 
once  difficult  and  important.  For  the  evi- 
dence of  this  I  ask  the  reader  to  turn  back  to 
his  list  of  novels.     If  his  list  at  all  resembles 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS   MISSION      219 

the  one  I  have  made  myself,  he  will  find  that 
about  one-third  of  the  novels  may  be  classed 
as  illustrations  of  a  principle  in  action,  as 
historical  romances,  or  as  novels  of  character  ; 
and  in  every  one  he  will  note  that  the  central 
interest  is  upon  one  single  figure  actuated 
always  by  a  daring  spirit.  Of  the  other  two- 
thirds  of  these  novels  nearly  every  one  will 
be  likely  to  be  a  treatment,  inductive  and 
serious,  of  some  ethical,  personal,  religious, 
or  social  problem.  Now  I  shall  not  under- 
take to  say  that  the  ethical  problem  is  so 
treated  that  the  novel  becomes  a  master  work 
of  ethics  ;  I  shall  not  undertake  to  say  that  the 
personal  problem  is  so  treated  that  these  works 
can  be  taken  as  great  contributions  to  the 
solving  of  these  or  other  personal  problems  ; 
nor  shall  I  undertake  to  say  that  the  religious 
problems  involved  or  presented  in  these  novels, 
or  that  the  social  problems  treated  in  these 
novels,  are  great  treatments  of  the  problems 
involved.  But  I  call  attention  to  the  fact  that 
so  many  of  these  novels  seem  to  undertake  the 
treatment  of  the  problem  with  an  intent  to  give 
a  hint  of   a   solution  and  a  delineation  of  an 


220  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

ideal  condition  in  which  such  problem  might 
find  solution  ;  and  I  say  tht^t  it  is  an  indica- 
tion of  the  tendency  of  the  novel  that  it  attacks 
and  does  what  it  can  toward  the  solving  of 
such  problems.  It  is  a  condition  which  seems 
to  indicate  a  confidence  in  the  usefulness  of 
the  novel  as  a  permanent  form  of  literature. 
The  third  tendency  which  I  shall  note  in 
the  novel  is  a  tendency  toward  earnestness  of 
manner.  It  is  not  only  true  that  the  novel 
seems  to  be  developing  a  personality  of  its 
own  ;  it  is  not  only  true  that  it  has  become 
serious  in  character ;  it  is  not  only  true 
that  it  has  become  serious  in  subject,  —  the 
novel  has  become  serious  in  manner.  Begin- 
ning as  a  study  of  fiction,  it  is  becoming  a 
study  of  actual  life.  The  only  demand  laid 
upon  the  novelist  at  the  present  day  is  that  he 
tell  the  exact  truth.  If  he  describe,  he  must 
describe  with  absolute  accuracy  or  we  will  have 
none  of  his  novels  ;  if  he  depict  a  character 
acting  out  of  accord  with  our  notions  of  the 
actions  of  a  character  actuated  by  such  motives, 
we  deny  the  title  of  excellence  to  the  novelist. 
The   scientific   hand   is  laid   upon  the   writer 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND   ITS  MISSION      221 

of  fiction  to  compel  him  to  truthfulness.  It  is, 
as  we  must  recognize,  a  somewhat  new  demand 
in  literature.  The  term  poetic  license  as  a 
phrase  of  condonation  of  the  departures  of  lit- 
erary men  from  truth  of  presentation  has  been 
familiar  to  us  for  generations.  We  have,  until 
lately,  expected  the  literary  man  to  be  free  from 
the  trammels  of  fidelity  to  the  actual  and  the 
truthful.  Sir  Walter  Scott,  writing  "  Kenil- 
worth,"  puts  into  his  preface  the  statement 
that  in  the  interest  of  an  historical  novel  he 
has  departed  from  history.  In  the  interest 
of  an  historical  play,  Shakespeare,  in  "King 
John,"  introduces  cannon  a  full  century  before 
such  engines  of  war  were  used  in  England 
or  France.  In  the  interest  of  a  fine  poetic 
metaphor,  Shakespeare  makes  Hamlet  speak  of 
that  undiscovered  country,  that  bourne  from 
which  no  traveller  e'er  returns,  when  that  same 
Hamlet  had  just  been  talking  with  a  traveller 
returned  from  that  same  undiscovered  country. 
In  "  King  Lear "  the  action  is  placed  seven 
centuries  before  Christ,  yet  Christian  allu- 
sions abound  in  the  play,  and  Kent  says  he 
is    no   papist ;    in    the    "  Lusiads,"    Vasco    da 


222     EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

Gama  prays  to  God,  and  Venus  answers  his 
prayer. 

The  compulsion  of  truth  was  not  upon 
the  Shakespeares  and  the  Walter  Scotts. 
But  his  publishers  tell  us  that  Robert  Louis 
Stevenson,  having  spoken  incidentally  in  one 
of  his  books  of  gulls  being  on  a  certain 
island  at  a  certain  time,  and  having  learned, 
after  the  book  was  in  the  press,  that  the 
gulls  did  not  go  to  the  island  at  that  time, 
insisted  that,  at  however  great  expense,  the 
correction  should  be  made.  The  compulsion 
of  truth  is  upon  the  modern  novelist.  It  is 
upon  him  in  accordance  with  a  scientific  dis- 
covery,— a  discovery  that  the  lines  of  decora- 
tive beauty  can  never  be  out  of  accord  with 
the  lines  of  construction  ;  that  the  things 
which  make  for  beauty  in  art  make  for 
strength  in  construction  ;  that  there  is  a  har- 
mony of  natural  and  aesthetic  laws.  The 
usefulness  of  beauty,  the  beauty  of  useful- 
ness, has  been  taught  us  by  science :  "  that 
which  is  true  has  in  it  lines  of  beauty,  that 
which  is  beautiful  has  in  it  lines  of  truth," 
says  modern  science. 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS   MISSION      223 

The  most  beautiful  thing  in  nature  is  the 
rainbow.  It  is  pure  beauty,  a  span  projected 
upon  evanescent  cloud,  resting  on  insubstan- 
tial air,  stretching  into  the  vagueness  of  the 
heavens.  It  has  been  a  visionary  hope  of  the 
dreamer  to  find  at  its  base  a  pot  of  gold  ; 
but  the  pot  of  gold  was  not  there.  It  has 
been  the  hope  of  the  artist  to  catch  the  secret 
of  the  blended  splendor  ;  but  the  hope  was 
vain.  The  rainbow  has  been  the  symbol  of 
promise  to  the  believer ;  but  it  faded  into 
mist  and  darkness  almost  ere  one  could  note 
its  presence.  Of  all  created  forms  of  beauty 
this  one  might  well  seem  the  most  incorporeal, 
the  most  etherial,  the  least  practical.  Yet 
the  rainbow  has  become  the  most  useful  of 
modern  scientific  tools.  To  the  solar  spec- 
trum, which  is  the  rainbow  on  the  scientist's 
dissecting  table,  every  man  of  science  is  a 
debtor.  The  lines  of  truth  in  the  spectrum 
are  the  lines  of  beauty  in  the  rainbow. 
"  That  which  would  be  beautiful,"  says  science 
to  art,  "  must  first  be  true. "  •'  The  truest 
verity,"  says  this  scientific  age  to  the  artist, 
"must  coincide  with  the  noblest  imaginative 


224  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

inspirations."  So  the  scientist  has  compelled 
the  literary  artist  to  be  truthful.  That  the 
writers  of  novels  in  our  day  have  been  able 
to  accept  this  stern  compulsion  is  an  indica- 
tion of  tendency  which  seems  to  set  apart 
the  novel  as  an  important,  if  not  a  permanent, 
form  of  literary  expression. 

Such  is  the  novel  to-day.  In  what  I  have 
said  of  it  may  be  found  the  suggestion  of  the 
answer  to  my  final  questions  :  What  is  the 
opportunity  of  the  novel  ?  and  with  such  oppor- 
tunity What  is  its  mission  ?  Very  likely,  if  a 
reader  framed  that  list  of  recent  successful 
novels  and  found  that  every  one  was  either  a 
romance  of  heroic  action,  or  a  study  of  some 
problem  of  personal,  religious,  or  social  action, 
he  was  ready  to  answer  that  this  was  an  indica- 
tion rather  of  the  temper  of  the  time  than  of  a 
tendency  of  the  novel.  He  was  ready  to  say 
that,  if  the  novel  to-day  deals  with  heroic  lives, 
it  deals  with  them  because  this  achieving  age 
admires  heroism  rather  than  because  the  novel 
has  become  heroic  ;  and  that  if  the  novel  pre- 
sents problems  it  is  because  men  and  women 
are  thinking  problems  rather  than  because  the 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND  ITS  MISSION      225 

novel  is,  on  a  sudden,  become  serious.  Had 
he  said  this  it  would  have  been  the  simple 
truth.  The  novel  is  becoming  serious  because 
this  special  decade  is  serious.  The  novel  is 
dealing  with  problems  because  just  now  many- 
problems  of  conduct  —  and  many  problems  of 
social  life  —  occupy  the  minds  of  men.  It  is 
depicting  romantic  heroism  because  this  is  an 
age  of  achievement.  And  herein  lies  the 
opportunity  and  the  mission  of  the  novel. 
It  has  the  opportunity  because  of  all  forms 
of  literature  at  the  present  time  the  novel 
is  most  in  touch  with  life.  When  one  now 
states  the  proposition  that  the  novel,  being  in 
touch  with  life,  has  literary  opportunity,  it 
does  not  seem  to  be  a  particularly  new  or  re- 
markable conception;  yet  only  a  generation 
or  so  ago  exactly  the  reverse  of  this  proposi- 
tion was  maintained  in  word  or  in  act  by 
most  literary  men.  To  gain  the  literary 
heavenly  life  one  must  leave  the  world  be- 
hind, used  to  be  an  indisputable  proposition 
of  literary  art.  Not  only  did  the  poet  claim 
poetic  license ;  not  only  did  the  dramatist, 
the  romance   writer,   expect    to    traverse   be- 

4 


226     EVOLUTION   OP   THE  ENGLISH  NOVEL 

yond  possibility,  if  lie  wished,  in  the  interest 
of  his  art — the  poet,  the  dramatist,  the  ro- 
mance writer,  expected  to  live  outside  of 
ordinary  life-conditions  altogether.  The  ordi- 
nary bonds  of  life,  so  ran  the  formula,  were 
not  for  the  man  of  genius.  To  live  apart, 
to  transcend  the  ordinary  limitations  of  life, 
to  keep  separate  from  contact  with  humanity, 
this  was  expected  of  the  literary  worker. 
The  coast  of  Bohemia,  with  its  unreal  sea 
dotted  with  non-existing  sails,  was  supposed 
to  be  the  proper  habitat  of  authors.  He 
might,  if  he  had  the  genius  of  a  Dumas,  a 
Musset,  a  George  Sand,  a  Shelley,  a  Byron, 
live  outside  of  law.  His  life  was  not  the 
world's  life  because  his  thoughts  were  not 
the  world's  thoughts.  Literature  was  out  of 
touch  with  life,  and  this  was  not  so  much 
from  necessity  as  from  desire.  The  literary 
man  lived  in  Bohemia,  no  doubt  often  be- 
cause in  semi-obscurity  poverty  was  less  con- 
spicuous ;  but  he  kept  his  work  apart  from 
life  because  his  theories  demanded  such  a 
separation.  The  actions,  the  struggles,  the 
dirt  and  crime,  the  petty  tragedies,  the  simple 


THE  MODERN  NOVEL  AND   ITS  MISSION      227 

experiences,  the  needs,  the  problems  of  the 
men  and  women  about  him,  were  not  subjects 
for  literature;  for  artistic  material  one  must 
go  beyond  the  actual. 

But  other  times  have  come ;  and  other 
precepts  govern  in  this  age.  The  scien- 
tific spirit  and  the  imaginative  spirit  have 
become  copartners.  The  novel  has  its  oppor- 
tunity because  it  has  come  to  deal  with  the 
artistic  possibilities  in  ordinary  life;  with  the 
tragedies  and  comedies  found  in  the  joys, 
the  aspirations,  and  the  problems  of  common 
human  mortals.  The  novel  which  began  by 
depicting  phases  and  conditions  has  come  to  be 
an  interpreter  of  the  deeper  affairs  of  life. 

It  was  a  long  time  ago  that  Matthew  Arnold 
said  of  poetry  that  it  was  a  criticism  of  life. 
This  is,  perhaps,  less  true  of  poetry  than  in 
the  year  when  Matthew  Arnold  said  it ; 
modern  poetry  deals  with  aspects  of  life 
rather  than  with  life  itself.  In  our  day  it  is 
the  novel  which  is  the  real  critic  of  life.  In 
creative  criticism  lies  the  mission  of  the  modern 
novel. 


INDEX 


"  Abelard  and  Hflo'ise,"  122. 
Abenteuerliche    Simplicius 

Simplicissimus,  29. 
"-^neid,"5. 
-ffischylus,  6,  77,  206. 
"All  Sorts  and  Conditions  of 

Men,"  155. 
"Alton   Locke,"  74,   155;    its 

origin    and    influence,  166; 

story  of,  172 ;  compared  with 

"Felix  Holt,"  174. 
"  Amadis  of  Gaul,"  29,  40. 
Amis  et  Arniles,  205. 
Andreini,  3,  4. 
"  Annals  of  a  Sportsman,"  74; 

its  nature  and  influence,  165. 
"  Apolonius  of  Tyre,"  33. 
"  Arcadia  "  of  Philip  Sidney, 

28,  39,  122, 132,  196. 
Arcadia  of  Sannazaro,  37. 
Ariosto,  63,  122. 
Aristophanes,  207. 
Arthurian  legends,  40. 
Astr^e,  39. 
Austen,  Jane,  43;  events  of  her 

life,  50 ;  her  model  style,  55 ; 

the  one  thing  lacking  in  her 

work,  57;  lack  of  intensity, 

65. 
Avitus,  3,  4. 

Babylonica  of  Jamblichus,  31. 
Beauty  accords  with  truth,  222. 
Beckford,  95. 
"  Beowulf,"  63, 152. 


Besant,  Walter,  155. 

Blackmore,  his  "  Lorna  Doone," 
149. 

"  Bleak  House,"  155,  184. 

Boccaccio,  36. 

Bohemia,  why  formerly  the 
refuge  of  authors,  226. 

"  Borderers,"  95. 

Bronte,  Charlotte,  43 ;  her 
eventful  life,  59;  character- 
istics of  her  novels,  58,  62. 

Bulwer,  Sir  Edward  Lytton, 
74;  character  of  his  histori- 
cal novels,  112,  114. 

Bunyan,  his  precursors  in  liter- 
ary method,  3,  204. 

Burney,  Miss  Fanny,  92. 

Csedmon,  3,  4,  162. 

Camden,  89. 

"  Castle  of  Otranto,"  95,  136. 

"  Caxtons,"  74. 

"  Chaereas  and  Callirhoe,"  34. 

Chanson  d' Alexandre,  205. 

Chanson  de  Roland,  205. 

Characters,  of  mediaeval  ro- 
mances are  heroic  types,  46 ; 
of  Bronte's  novels  are  crea- 
tions, 63. 

Chartism,  its  demands,  170; 
promoted  by  Charles  Kings- 
ley,  171. 

Chaucer,  94. 

Cimabue,  12. 

Clarendon,  89,  93. 


229 


280 


INDEX 


"  Clarissa  Harlowe,"  42. 

Classical  contrasted  with  ro- 
mantic, 128. 

"  Clitophon  and  Leucippe,"  34. 

"  Cloister  and  the  Hearth," 
112,  115;  scarcely  a  purpose 
novel,  180. 

Coincidences  in  literature  and 
science,  164. 

Colleges,  system  of  compulsion 
in,  22. 

Collins,  Wilkic,  165,  189. 

Confessio  Amantis,  33. 

Cooper,  J.  Fenimore,  112. 

"  Count  of  Monte  Cristo,"  74. 

Craik,  Mrs.  D.  M.,  her  "  Han- 
nah," as  a  purpose-novel, 
155,  185,  188. 

Cynewulf ,  152. 

Cyropsedia,  has  some  charac- 
teristics of  a  historical  novel, 
85. 

"Daniel  Deronda,"  165 ;  story 
of,  175. 

Dante,  "Divine  Comedy,"  2; 
"  Inferno,"  2,  4;  his  vision  a 
completed  form  of  earlier 
examples,  2. 

"  Daphnis  and  Chloe,"  35 

"  David  Copperfield,"  74. 

Defoe,  28. 

Deguilleville,  Guillaume  de,  3. 

Deland,  Mrs.,  186. 

Development  of  the  novel, 
mode  of  procedure,  192. 

Diana,  of  Montemayor,  37,  39. 

Dickens,  Charles,  74 ;  his  pur- 
pose-novels, 155,  184, 188. 

Drama,  difficulties  of  a  theory 
of  evolution,  5 ;  its  necessary 
form,  211;  surpassed  by  the 
novel,  206. 

Dumas,  Alexander,  41,  74 ;  his 


novels      exemplify     Scott's 
theory,    105 ;     subordinated 
history  to  romance,  113. 
D'Urfe',  lionore',  36,  39. 

Earnestness  appearing  in  the 
novel,  220. 

Ebers,  Georg,  112;  character 
of  his  historical  novels,  113, 
115. 

Edgeworth,  Maria,  92, 156, 157. 

Education,  exhibits  change  of 
motive  force  from  external 
to  internal,  21. 

"  Egyptian  Princess,"  112. 

Eliot,  George,  115;  purpose- 
novels,  155,  174;  these  not 
her  best  works,  188. 

"  Emma,"  51,  57,  65. 

Emotion,  the  dominating  char- 
acteristic of  the  novel,  9,  26 ; 
contributes  to  its  advance, 
200. 

Ephesiaca  of  Xenophon,  32. 

Epic,  the  earliest  and  most 
external  form  of  poetry,  15 ; 
one  of  the  greatest  forms  of 
literature,  202 ;  superseded 
by  the  novel,  204 ;  why  thus 
supplanted,  208;  its  neces- 
sary form,  211. 

Essay  surpassed  by  the  noyel, 
208. 

Ethiopica  of  HeliodoruB,  33. 

"Euphues,"  28. 

Euripides,  206. 

Evolution  of  literature,  diffi- 
culties of  a  theory  of,  4. 

Evolution  of  the  novel,  1-42. 

External,  the,  depicted  before 
the  internal,  11 ;  prominent  in 
repentance  for  sin,  20 ;  para- 
mount in  "Pride  and  Preju- 
dice," 58  ;  progress  to  internal 


INDEX 


231 


in  the  development  of  the  his- 
torical novel,  116. 

"Felix  Holt"  compared  with 
"  Alton  Locke,"  174. 

Ferseus,  2,  4. 

Fiction,  distinction  from  truth 
a  modern  idea,  87. 

Fielding,  Henry,  26,  195;  as- 
serts the  equality  of  man- 
kind, 90. 

Folk-lore  stories  depict  tri- 
umph of  intellect  over 
strength,  15. 

Form  not  fixed  for  the  novel, 
212. 

"  Francesca  da  Rimini,"  122, 
146. 

French  predecessors  of  the 
novel,  29. 

Gaskell,  Mrs.,  74;  her  "Cran- 
ford  "  better  known  than  her 
"  Mary  Barton,"  188. 

Ghost,  presentation  spiritual- 
ized since  Shakespeare's  time, 
18. 

Gibbon,  89,  93. 

Gil  Bias,  29, 

Goethe,  93 ;  his  "  Sorrows  of 
Werther,"  39,  141 ;  scope  of 
his  genius,  142 ;  events  of  his 
life,  143 ;  four  influences  that 
made  "  Werther  "  possible, 
144;  "Wilhelm  Meister's 
Apprenticeship  "  a  later 
stage  of  romanticism,  146, 
148. 

Gogol,  "Dead  Souls,"  165. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  43,  89,  91; 
characteristics,  47. 

"  Gondez  the  Monk,"  95. 

Giitz  von  Berlichingen,  144. 

Gower,  33. 


Greek  romances,  30. 
Grimmelshausen,  29. 
"  Gulliver's  Travels,"  195. 
"  Guy  Mannering,"  100. 

Hamlet,  146.  147. 

"  Hannah,"  as  a  purpose-novel, 
155,  185. 

"Hard  Cash,"  155;  reveals 
harsh  treatment  in  lunatic 
asylums,  182. 

Hardy,  on  orthodox  beauty,  99. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel,  43,  74 ; 
author's  life  not  reflected  in 
"  The  Scarlet  Letter,"  76. 

Heliodorus,   33. 

"  Henry  Esmond,"  112, 115, 117. 

Herbert  of  Cherbury,  89. 

Herder,  144. 

Historical  novel,  84-119;  na- 
ture, 84,  87 ;  recent  origin, 
86;  made  possible  by  two 
streams  of  influence,  91 ; 
Scott's  ideal  of,  102;  Scott's 
theory  illustrated  by  Dumas, 
105 ;  few  examples,  112 ;  its 
present  and  its  probable  fu- 
ture, 118. 

History,  impossible  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  87;  arose  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  89. 

Hobbes,  89. 

Homer,  5,  40. 

Houdan,  Raoul  de,  3. 

Hume,  89,  93. 

"  Hypatia  "  superior  to  "  Alton 
Locke,"  189. 

Ideal  personages  in  mediaeval 

legends,  47. 
"  Iliad,"  5. 
Indian  speech  a  picture  story, 

14. 
Individuality,  assertion  of,  a 


282 


INDEX 


modern  idea,  46,  196;  first 
intensely  presented  in  "  Jane 
Eyre,"  71 ;  this  not  its  high- 
est form,  72. 

Inductive  method,  finds  scope 
in  the  novel,  212. 

"  Inferno,"  2,  4. 

Internal,  the,  depicted  after  the 
external,  11;  progress  to,  in 
the  development  of  the  his- 
torical novel,  116. 

Ireland,  S.  W.  H.,  95. 

Irving,  Henry,  18. 

"  Italian,  The,"  138,  139. 

Italian  and  Spanish  pastorals, 
36. 

"  Ivanhoe,"  100, 102. 

Jamblicas,  31. 

James,  G.  P.  R.,  112. 

"Jane  Eyre,"  43;  time,  44; 
when  published,  60 ;  story  of, 
63 ;  its  spirit  of  revolt  against 
convention,  67;  criticism  of, 
68 ;  religious  questioning,  69 ; 
social  heterodoxy,  70;  com- 
pared with  "The  Scarlet 
Letter,"  75. 

Job,  Book  of,  4. 

"John  Inglesant,"  112. 

"John  Ward,  Preacher,"  as  a 
novel  of  purpose,  186. 

"  Joseph  Andrews,"  42,  46. 

"  Kenilworth,"   100,101,221. 

Kingsley,  Charles,  74,  112; 
emotional  character  of  his 
"  Yeast "  and  "Alton  Locke," 
166;  his  quiet  life,  169. 

Klopstock,  144. 

La  Fayette,  Mme.  de,  29. 
L'Ameto,  of  Boccaccio,  36. 


"  Last  Days  of  Pompeii,"  112. 

Lee,  Miss  Sophia,  95. 

Lesage,  29. 

Lodge,  28. 

"  Lorua  Doone  "  contrasted 
with  "The  Mysteries  of 
Udolpho,"  149. 

Love,  its  importance  to  life  as- 
serted by  the  novel,  201. 

Lyly,  28. 

"  Macbeth,"  18. 

Madonna,  earlier  and  later 
modes  of  depiction,  12. 

Mdhabhdrata,  203. 

"  Man  and  Wife,"  as  a  purpose- 
novel,  155, 185. 

Manon  Lescaut,  29,  42. 

"  Mansfield  Park,"  51. 

"  Marcella,"  as  a  novel  of  pur- 
pose, 155,  186. 

Marianne,  29,  39,  42,  46. 

Marivaux,  29,  39. 

"  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  155, 184. 

"Marvellous  Things  beyond 
Thule,"  31. 

"  Mary  Barton,"  74, 188. 

Massys,  Quiutin,  12. 

Menina  e  Mo^a,  of  Ribeiro,  37. 

Mental  excitement,  romances 
of,  137. 

Method,  literary,  instances  of 
development,  2. 

Milton,  relation  of  his  method 
to  that  of  earlier  writers,  3, 4. 

Miracle  Plays,  6,  17. 

Mission  of  the  novel,  224. 

Modern  novel,  195-227;  the 
term  '  modern '  used  in  a  spe- 
cial sense,  196. 

Montemayor,  36,  37,  39. 

Mulock,  Miss.    See  Mrs.  Craik. 

"  Mysteries  of  Udolpho,"  95, 
136,  149. 


INDEX 


233 


Nash,  28. 

Nature,  in  "Pride  and  Preju- 
dice," 56;  in  "Jane  Eyre," 
66. 

"Never  Too  Late  to  Mend," 
155 ;  when  written,  179 ;  its 
nature,  180. 

"  Nicholas  Nickleby,"  155,  184. 

"Northanger  Abbey,"  51,  57, 
65,  138. 

Notre  Dame,  133,  135, 148. 

Nouvelle  IMoise,  39,  144. 

Novalis.  126, 142,  147. 

Novel  of  purpose,  153-194 ;  not 
frequent,  153;  limited  as  to 
number  and  time,  187;  not 
usually  the  best  work  of  their 
authors,  188;  spring  from 
great  emotional  arousement, 
189;  its  decadence  only  ap- 
parent, 190;  has  developed 
into  the  novel  of  the  prob- 
lem, 193. 

"  Odyssey,"  5,  40. 
Opportunity  of  the  novel,  224. 
Orlando  Furioso,  47,  63, 122. 

"  Pamela,"  28,  29,  39,  42, 45, 46, 
91,  195. 

"  Paradise  Lost,"  3,  4. 

Parsonage,  contributions  to 
literature,  44. 

Passion,  appearance  in  the 
novel,  65. 

Pastoral,  relation  to  the  novel, 
;«!,  39. 

PUerinage  de  I'dme,  3. 

"  Peudennis,"  74. 

"  Pericles,  Prince  of  Tyre,"  33. 

Permanence  of  the  novel,  rea- 
son to  expect,  202. 

Personality  in  fiction,  growth 
of,  43-83;  necessary  to  the 


idea  of  the  novel,  45,  47;  a 
modem  notion,  46;  as  illus- 
trated by  the  "Vicar  of 
Wakefield,"  49. 

"  Persuasion,"  51. 

Photius,  31. 

Physical  adventure,  romances 
of,  136. 

"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  3,  4, 204. 

Plot,  a  modern  notion  in  fic- 
tion, 196. 

Poetic  license,  221. 

Poetry,  difficulties  of  a  theory 
of  evolution,  4 ;  surpassed  by 
the  novel,  207. 

Political  affairs,  show  change 
from  external  to  internal 
domination,  23. 

Porter,  Miss  Jane,  95. 

Predecessors  of  the  novel  in 
English  literature,  28. 

Prevost,  Abbe,  29. 

"Pride  and  Prejudice,"  43; 
time,  44;  when  written,  50; 
story  of,  52;  characteristics, 
53,  63. 

Princesse  de  Cleves,  29. 

"Put  yourself  in  his  Place," 
155;  its  attitude  toward 
trade-unions,  182. 

"Pylgremage  of  the  Sowle," 
3,4. 

"  Queen-hoo  Hall,"  95. 
"Queutin  Durward,"  96,  100, 
102. 

Radcliffe, Mrs., her  "Mysteries 
of  Udolpho,"  95,  139,  149. 

Reade,  Charles,  115, 155 ;  events 
of  his  life,  177. 

"Recess,"  95. 

Reformer,  seeks  to  embody  a 
known  ideal,  147. 


234 


INDEX 


"  Reynard  the  Fox,"  205. 

Ribeiro,  37. 

Richardson,  26,  28,  39, 195. 

"Rienzi,"  112. 

"  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  6. 

"  Rivals,  The,"  6. 

"Robert  Elsmere,"  as  a  novel 
of  purpose,  186. 

Robertson,  89,  93. 

"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  28, 195. 

Robinson  Tales,  29. 

Roderick,  Random,  195. 

Roman  d'En^as,  205. 

Roman  de  Troie,  205. 

Romance,  romantic,  romanti- 
cism, no  common  under- 
standing of  the  words,  120; 
their  origin,  122 ;  their  mean- 
ing shown  by  usage,  124; 
connote  a  symbolism  in  mod- 
ern times,  126;  or  depart- 
ure from  formalism,  128; 
characterized  by  departure 
from  the  ordinary,  130;  the 
object  of  this  departure 
being  to  find  a  new  law 
and  a  new  perspective,  132; 
highest  examples  are  those 
having  the  most  qualities, 
135. 

Romance  defined,  27;  sup- 
planted by  the  novel,  20i; 
why  thus  supplanted,  209; 
its  necessary  form,  211. 

Romantic  novel,  120-152;  its 
three  stages,  136;  stage  of 
physical  adventure,  136 ; 
stage  of  mental  excitement, 
137;  stage  of  spiritual  life, 
141 ;  its  special  foe  is  science, 
151. 

Romanticism,  never  at  its 
noblest  in  fiction,  151. 

"Bomola,"112. 


"  Rosalind,"  28. 
Rousseau,  39,  IM. 

"  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory,"  2, 4. 

Sannazaro,  36,  37. 

"  Scarlet  Letter,"  43;  time  of, 
44;  appeared  in  a  fruitful 
time  of  novel  writing,  74 :  a 
great  advance  over  Bronte's 
work,  75;  story  of,  76;  re- 
semblance to  a  Greek 
tragedy,  79. 

Schlegel,  132, 142. 

Science,  the  foe  of  the  roman- 
tic novel,  151 ;  influence  on 
literary  methods,  212;  ten- 
dency of  novel  toward,  213. 

Scott,  Sir  "Walter,  41,  89;  the 
father  of  the  historical  novel, 
95;  life  worthy  of  respect, 
96;  his  genius  questioned, 
97 ;  changed  facts  of  history 
in  his  novels,  100 ;  his  theory 
of  the  historical  novel,  102; 
more  truthful  than  his  theory 
requires,  104;  subordinated 
history  to  romance,  113. 

"  Scottish  Chiefs,"  95. 

"  Sense  and  Sensibility,"  51, 
57. 

Seriousness  being  attained  by 
the  novel,  216,  218. 

Shah-nameh,  203. 

Shakespeare,  not  a  link  in  a 
chain  of  dramatic  evolution, 
6. 

"  She  Stoops  to  Conquer,"  6. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  28,  36,  39. 

Sireno,  37. 

Slavery,  its  rise  and  decline  in 
America,  161. 

Smollett,  26,  91, 195. 

Social  nature  of  the  novel  a 
strong  feature,  213. 


INDEX 


235 


Sophocles,  206. 

"Sorrows   of   Werther,"   133, 

135, 136, 141. 
Spiritual    life,    romances    of. 

Ml. 
Sterne,  26,  90, 195. 
Stevenson,  41,  222. 
Stowe,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher, 

her  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin," 

74, 159,  188. 
Strutt,  Joseph,  95. 
Sturm  uiid  Drang,  132, 144. 
Sue,  Eugene,  74. 

Thackeray,  William  M.,  74, 
112 ;  character  of  his  histori- 
cal fiction,  113;  presents  the 
most  modern  stage  of  the 
historical  novel,  115. 

"  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,"  95. 

Theory  of  evolution  of  the 
novel  outlined,  12,  25. 

"Three  Musketeers,"  105,  de- 
scribed, 106 ;  departure  from 
fact,  107;  general  impres- 
sion not  one  of  falseness, 
108 ;  deals  with  external  life, 
116. 

Tieck,  126, 142, 147. 

Time  of  the  novel  in  literary 
history,  8. 

"Tom  Jones, "46, 195, 

Tristram  Shandy,  195. 

Truth,  compulsion  of,  on  the 
modern  novelist,  220,  222. 

Tundale,  3. 

Turgenieff,  Ivan,  74 ;  influence 
of  his  "  Annals  of  a  Sports- 
man," 164-166, 188. 

Type-forms  arising  in  the  novel, 
216. 


"Uncle  Tom's  Cabin,"  74;  a 
typical  novel  of  purpose,  155, 
159 ;  compared  with  "  Yeast " 
and  "Alton  Locke,"  166;  its 
special  opportunity,  160,  162. 

"Unfortunate  Traveller,"  28. 

Vanderbilt,  Commodore,  17. 

Van  Eyck,  12. 

"  Vanity  Fair,"  74. 

"Vathek,"95, 136, 139. 

Vergil,  36. 

"  Vicar  of  Wakefield,"  43,  46 ; 
time,  44;  story  of,  48;  com- 
pared with  "  Pride,  and  Prej- 
udice," 53. 

"  Villette, "  65,  66. 

"  Vision  of  St.  Paul,"  2,  4. 

Vogue  of  the  novel,  how  ob- 
tained, 197. 

Walpole,  95. 

Wanderer,  seeks  an  unknown 
ideal,  147. 

"  Wandering  Jew,"  74. 

Ward,  Mrs.  Humphry,  her 
"Robert  Elsmere "  and 
"  Marcella,"  as  novels  of 
purpose,  155, 186. 

"  Waverley,"  95,  100,117. 

"  Westward  Ho !  "   112. 

"  Wilhelm  Meister's  Appren- 
ticeship," 142. 

"Wilhelm  Meister's  Travels," 
143, 146. 

Xenophon,  of  Ephesus,  32;  of 
Athens,  85. 

"Yeast,"  74,  155;  its  origin 
and  influence,  166. 


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